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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383705" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Blood Feud</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383705" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Once, when my husband was a child, there came<br>To his father's table, one who called him kin,<br>In sunbleached corduroys paler than his skin.<br>His look was grave and kind; he bore the name<br>Of the dead singer of Senlac, and his smile.<br>Shyly and courteously he smiled and spoke;<br>"I've been in the laurel since the winter broke;<br>Four months, I reckon; yes, sir, quite a while."</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383705" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He'd killed a score of foemen in the past,<br>In some blood feud, a dark and monstrous thing;<br>To him it seemed his duty. At the last<br>His enemies found him by a forest spring,<br>Which, as he died, lay bright beneath his head,<br>A silver shield that slowly turned to red.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Elinor+Morton+Wylie">Elinor Morton Wylie</a></strong></div>

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