He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls:
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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I used to recite this poem to myself when I was a kid.
ReplyDeleteUmmm yeah. Me too. What the heck Nellie?!
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