December 2009
An English countess goes upon the stage.
A Greek was murdered at a Polish dance,
Another bank defaulter has confessed.
I keep my countenance,
I remain self possesed
Except when a street piano, mechanical and tired
Reiterates some worn out common song
With the smell of Hyacinths across the garden
Recalling things that other people have desired.
Are these ideas right or wrong?
- T.S Eliot
