The Failure of Buffalo to LevitateMillard Fillmore died here. His round body is weighted by marble angels. He lies among the great orators of the Iroquois.
Paint does not arrest the tradebook houses In their elegant decay. They peel Like lizards in the dying avenues of elm.
Gentle enough, night drifts Above the yellow bursts of aspen in the park. Something innocent and reptilian
Suffers here, cumbrously. The souls of the wives of robber barons Are imprisoned in the chandeliers. |
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