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| Topic: the taxi | |
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when I go away, the world beats dead
like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars and shout into the ridges of the wind. streets coming fast , one after the other and the lamps of the city prick my eyes. so I can no longer see you. why should I leave you, to wound myself upon the edge of the night? Amy Lowell found this poem in our old library in the school way back when I was still in secondary. can't forget: ) |
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Nice.
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thanks: )
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