
| By: Robert Graves (1895-1985) There was this road, And it led up-hill, And it led down-hill, And round and in and out. And the traffic was legs, Legs from the knees down, Coming and going, Never pausing. And the gutters gurgled With the rain's overflow, And the sticks on the pavement Blinding tapped and tapped. What drew the legs along Was the never-stopping, And the senseless, frightening Fate of being legs. Legs for the road, The road for legs, Resolutely nowhere In both directions. My legs at least Were not in that rout: On grass by the roadside Entire I stood, Watching the unstoppable Legs go by With never a stumble Between step and step. Though my smile was broad The legs could not see, Though my laugh was loud The legs could not hear. My head dizzied then: I wondered suddenly, Might I too be a walker From the knees down? Gently I touched my shins. The doubt unchained them: They had run in twenty puddles Before I regained them. |
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~x~Taki pwns all~x~
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I may love him, I may love him; for he is a man, and I am only a beech-tree.
-G.M.
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With love,
*Gir-Gir
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Fly me away,
take me away,
Save the Whales deserves all the publication it got.
(And thank you for watch back!)
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I may love him, I may love him; for he is a man, and I am only a beech-tree.
-G.M.
--
With love,
*Gir-Gir
--------
Fly me away,
take me away,
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