Boswell by my bed,
Tolstoy on my table;
Thought the world has bled
For four and a half years,
...
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The individual soul, The eye, the lip, the brow For ever gone from their place, And gather an image whole.. a very good poem. tony
Boswell & Tolstoy In the heart of writing pen No death is there Eternity of penning....
Tell me more about life, The meaning and the end...... Outstanding conceptualization. A great poem by Edwin Muir.
cheers lad