In the body of a violent beast.
Its muscles are his own...
The lion sleeps in the sun.
Its nose is on its paws.
It can kill a man.
Poetry Is a Destructive Force, Wallace Stevens
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She herself had had a deep sense of poetry; she remembered going to sleep with Shelley under her pillow.
The Last September, Elizabeth Bowen
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I want what world there is behind your eyes
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