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August 3, 2011
Auden's Always Apt
From the narrow window of my fourth floor room I smoke into the night, and watch reflections Stretch in the harbour. In the houses The little pianos are closed, and a clock strikes, And all sway forward on the dangerous flood Of history, that never sleeps or dies, And held one moment, burns the hand.Posted by Vanderleun at August 3, 2011 12:29 PM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.