A thought.it reads:
The city is a place much different
To each man who has dwelt in it
For each street presents a dif'rent view
Another town, to me, to you
But the farce of the interstate
Is it drives the heart to hate
By presenting to the varied princes
A selfsame view, and each winces
For having her so oft in sight
He thinks that he may know her right
But as he has but oft but glanced her cover
He can desire, but never love her.
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ReplyDeleteHe will come to hate
ReplyDeleteThat which is familiar
When he has become a bait
To himself, a spiteful stranger.