<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346197" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tarantula, Or The Dance Of Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">During the plague I came into my own. <br>It was a time of smoke-pots in the house <br>Against infection. The blind head of bone <br>Grinned its abuse </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Like a good democrat at everyone. <br>Runes were recited daily, charms were applied. <br>That was the time I came into my own. <br>Half Europe died. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The symptoms are a fever and dark spots <br>First on the hands, then on the face and neck, <br>But even before the body, the mind rots. <br>You can be sick </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Only a day with it before you’re dead. <br>But the most curious part of it is the dance. <br>The victim goes, in short, out of his head. <br>A sort of trance </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Glazes the eyes, and then the muscles take <br>His will away from him, the legs begin <br>Their funeral jig, the arms and belly shake <br>Like souls in sin. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Some, caught in these convulsions, have been known <br>To fall from windows, fracturing the spine. <br>Others have drowned in streams. The smooth head-stone, <br>The box of pine, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Are not for the likes of these. Moreover, flame <br>Is powerless against contagion. <br>That was the black winter when I came <br>Into my own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anthony+Evan+Hecht">Anthony Evan Hecht</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346197" data-title="Tarantula, Or The Dance Of Death de Anthony Evan Hecht" data-description="During the plague I came into my own. It was a time of smoke-pots in the house Against infection. The blind head of bone Grinned its abuse Like a good democrat at everyone. Runes were recited daily, charms were applied. That was the time I..."></div> </div> </div>

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