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Hardy fun, Robin, but he doth go on a bit, the old f____!
Stephen V
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Yeah, it is a bit long for its own good, though I really like:
> The bower we shrined to Tennyson,
> Gentlemen,
> Is roof-wrecked; damps there drip upon
> Sagged seats, the creeper-nails are rust,
> The spider is sole denizen;
> Even she who voiced those rhymes is dust,
> Gentlemen!
Mind you, it doesn't go on as long as Larkin.
R.
> Thomas Hardy - An Ancient To Ancients
>
> Where once we danced, where once we sang,
> Gentlemen,
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