Twenty-six at most, the Old Don sonorously
Expounds upon T. S. Eliot.
Parts of an older world, a better world,
Which I am a part of also.
And Eliot, the harbinger of the new one
Where our ways are already obsolete.
Twenty-six at most, the Old Don sonorously
Expounds upon T. S. Eliot.
Parts of an older world, a better world,
Which I am a part of also.
And Eliot, the harbinger of the new one
Where our ways are already obsolete.