Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door, Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
It was the calm and silent night!Seven hundred years and fifty-threeHad Rome been growing up to might,And now was queen of land and sea.No sound was heard of clashing wars,Peace brooded o’er the hushed domain;Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and MarsHeld undisturbed their ancient reignIn the solemn midnight,Centuries ago.
My current novel, Pallas , is all about that culture war - in fact it's been called the Uncle Tom's Cabin of the Sagebrush Rebellion - and yet what I hear all too often from libertarians is that they don't read fiction.l. neil smith
And the Raven, never flitting, Still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas Just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming Of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming Throws his shadow on the floor, And my soul from out that shadow, That lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted nevermore.
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