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bestclia444
Wysłany: Sob 10:17, 12 Mar 2011
Temat postu: when I've run my race
st in the grim array- Ghosts of ghosts that have gone their way, Which I wouldn't revive for a single day For all the wealth of PLUTUS - Are the horrible ghosts that school-days scared: If the classical ghost that BRUTUS dared Was the ghost of his "Caesar" unprepared,
Hermes shop
, I'm sure I pity BRUTUS. I pass to critical seventeen; The ghost of that terrible wedding scene, When an elderly Colonel stole my Queen, And woke my dream of heaven. No schoolgirl decked in her nurse-room curls Was my gushing innocent Queen of Pearls; If she wasn't a girl of a thousand girls, She was one of forty-seven! I see the ghost of my first cigar, Of the thence-arising family jar - Of my maiden brief (I was at the Bar,
Hermes shop
, And I called the Judge "Your wushup!") Of reckless days and reckless nights, With wrenched-off knockers, extinguished lights, Unholy songs and tipsy fights, Which I strove in vain to hush up. Ghosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks,
Hermes shop
, Ghosts of "copy, declined with thanks," Of novels returned in endless ranks,
Hermes shop
, And thousands more, I suffer. The only line to fitly grace My humble tomb, when I've run my race, Is, 106 Fifty "Bab" Ballads - Much Sound and Little Sense Fifty "Bab" Ballads - Much Sound and Little Sense I've fought them all, these ghosts of mine, But the weapons I've used are sighs and brine, And now that I'm nearly forty-nine, Old age is my chiefest bogy; For my hair is thinning away at the crown, And the silver fights with the worn-out brown; And a general verdict sets me down As an
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