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Allen Tate - LightAllen Tate - Light
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Last night I fled until I came To streets where leaking casements dripped Stale lamplight from the corpse of flame; A nervous window bled. The moon swagged in the air. Out of the mist a girl tossed Spittle of song; a hoarse light Spattered the fog with heavy hair. Damp bells in a remote tower Sharply released the throat of God, I leaned to the erect night Dead as stiff turf in winter sod. Then with the careless energy Of a dream, the forward curse Of a cold particular eye In the headlong hearse.
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