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Grub First, Then Ethics
Should the shade of PlatoVisit us, anxious to knowhow anthropos is, we could say to him: ‘Well,we can read to ourselves, our useof holy numbers would shock you, and a poetmay lament—’Where is Telfordwhose bridged canals are still a Shropshire glorywhere Muir who on a Douglas Sprucerode out a storm and called an earthquake noble,where…
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The Man In The Moon Came Down Too Soon
The text of this poem could not be published because of Copyright laws.
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The Child Is Father To The Man
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Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and…