I WAITED for the train unto Versailles. I hung with bonnes and gamins on the bridge Watching the gravelled road where, ridge with ridge, Under black arches gleam the iron rails Clear in the darkness, till the darkness fails And they press on to light again—again To reach the dark. I waited for the train Unto Versailles; I leaned over the bridge, And wondered, cold and drowsy, why the knave Claude is in worship; and why (sense apart) Rubens preferred a mustard vehicle. The wind veered short. I turned upon my heel Saying, “Correggio was a toad”; then gave Three dizzy yawns, and knew not of the Art.SourceThe script ran 0.005 seconds.
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