The Skipping-Rope

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

　　

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Sure never yet was antelope Could skip so lightly by. Stand off, or else my skipping-rope Will hit you in the eye. How lightly Whirls the skipping-rope ! How fairy-like you fly ! Go, get you gone, you muse and mope -- I hate that silly sigh. Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope, Or tell me how to die. There, take it, take my skipping-rope, And hang yourself thereby.

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