And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is, and nothing more.
As human beings we__e certainly suffered the loss of awe, the loss of sacredness, and the loss of the fact that we__e not here_ we__e not put on earth_ to shape it anyway we want... You want something to happen with poetry, but it doesn__ make anything happen. So then somebody says, __hat__ the use of poetry?_ Then you say, __ell, what__ the use of a cloud? What__ the use of a river? What__ the use of a tree?_ They don__ make anything happen.
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As human beings we__e certainly suffered the loss of awe, the loss of sacredness, and the loss of the fact that we__e not here_ we__e not put on earth_ to shape it anyway we want... You want something to happen with poetry, but it doesn__ make anything happen. So then somebody says, __hat__ the use of poetry?_ Then you say, __ell, what__ the use of a cloud? What__ the use of a river? What__ the use of a tree?_ They don__ make anything happen.
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