Tuesday, 4 December 2018

Dark Dove

In the uncertain hour at morning
Near the ending of interminable night
At the recurrent end of the unending
After the dark dove with the flickering tongue
Had passed below the horizon of his homing
While the dead leaves still rattled on like tin
Over the asphalt where no other sound was
TS Eliot
excerpt from
Four Quartets
Little Gidding

Walker Evans
New York 1928

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