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The Sick

Topics: classic

Evening and grief and lamp light     Bury our death-face.     We sit at the window and drop out of it,     Far off day still squints at a gray house.     We scarcely touch our life...     And the world is a morphine dream...     Blinded by clouds the sky sinks.     The garden expires in dark wind -     The watchmen enter,     Lift us up into bed,     Inject us with poison,     Kill the lamp.     Curtains hang in front of the night...     They disappear gently and slowly -     Some groan, but no one speaks,     Our buried face sleeps.

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"Evening and grief and lamp light..."

"The Sick" is a quintessential example of Alfred Lichtenstein's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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