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Rhapsody on a Windy Night Twelve o'clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Dissolve the floors of memory And all its clear relations, Its divisions and precisions. Every street-lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a ...
Tags:
poetry
prufrock
what the thunder said

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Published: 1 week, 4 days ago (Sat, 21 Nov 2009 16:46:07 PST); 3038 bytes
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