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Authors:

I sometimes think about old tombs and weeds. That interwreathe among the bones of kings. With cold and poisonous berry and black flower: Or ruminate upon the skulls of steeds. Frailer than shells and on those luminous wings -The shoulder blades of Princes of fled power, Which now the unrecorded sandstorms grind. Into so wraith-like a translucency. Of tissue-thin and aqueous bone- A Reverie of Bone

Mervyn Peake