Alfred, Lord Tennyson calls the Poetry Crisis Line

PATIENCE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON (caller): Theirs not to make reply,
PATIENCE: If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help.
TENNYSON: Theirs not to reason why,
PATIENCE: So you don’t want me to figure out what’s wrong?
TENNYSON: Theirs but to do and die.
PATIENCE: If someone’s in danger I can send help if you share your location.
TENNYSON: Into the valley of death
PATIENCE: Death Valley? The national park?
TENNYSON: rode the six hundred.
PATIENCE: Right. I can request a specific ambulance but you’ll probably get whatever’s closest.

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