Shall I compare the anger with actual death?
The anger is more deadly and more harmful;
The anger is to wisdom what asthma to breath,
Day by day it reduces the stretch of cool.
It makes the skin devour her beautiful glow
And draws lines on face, and makes it look aged
Far more than fact, this, when told, gives a blow;
And mirror of love's eyes does make it ragged.
It makes blood pressure quietly to grow,
And blinds the wisdom giving way to devil;
So, fine friend also looks at with raised brow,
Only to make it more rash to spoil all deal.
Actual death makes only once, the body to die;
But this fierce foe makes daily, the Soul to cry.