Caught between, two streams of traffic, in the gloom<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> of Memorial Hall and Harvard’s war-dead. … And he: “Don’t you loathe to be compared with your relatives? I do. I’ve just found two of mine reviewed by Poe. He wiped the floor with them … and I was delighted.” Then on with warden’s pace across the Yard, Taking of Pound, “It’s balls to say he isn’t The way he is. … He’s better though. This year, He no longer wants to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem. Yes, he’s better. ‘You speak,’ he said, when he’d talked two hours. By then I had absolutely nothing to say.” Ah Tom, one muse, one music, had one the luck – lost in the dark night of the brilliant talkers, humor and boredom from the everlasting dross! 1969 |
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