MILES and miles of quiet houses, every house a harbour,
Each for some unquiet soul a haven and a home,
Pleasant fires for winter nights, for sun the trellised arbour,
Earth the solid underfoot, and heaven for a dome.
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I mostly dislike this poem because, politically, I don't think that the suburbs are really helping our communities grow very much at all. It saddens me when I see everyone rushing about to work to pay for the ability to lock themselves in and become vegetables at night.
Muhammad was here get this done guys