I've seen her pass with eyes upon the road-
An old bent woman in a bronze-black shawl,
With skin as dried and wrinkled as a mummy's,
As brown as a cigar-box, and her voice ...
The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for
Centuries delayed
Its fitness growing like the Flood
In sumptuous solitude-
The desolations only missed
While Rapture changed its Dress
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