DRINK of our Cup--of the red wine that burns in it,
All the wild shames that have crusted its mouth,
Passion that twists in it, Madness that churns in it,
Fever that yearns in it, Folly that turns in it,
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Somebody commented that Murel died some thirty ago. There is a lot we can learn from her way of writing. Alas, we only have 24 of her poems to review. I like what I have seen so far.