Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces in the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
T. S. Eliot—Rhapsody on a Windy Night
Old Possum
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces in the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
T. S. Eliot—Rhapsody on a Windy Night
Rummages Across the Dead Land 