| Owl Clocks belled twelve. Main street showed otherwise Than its suburb of woods : nimbus--- Lit, but unpeopled, held its windows Of wedding pastries, Diamond rings, potted roses, fox-skins Ruddy on the wax mannequins In a glassed tableau of affluence. From deep-sunk basements What moved the pale, raptorial owl Then, to squall above the level Of streetl... |
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