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If seeing her an hour before her last
Weak cough into all blackness I could yet
Be held by chalkwhite walls
The Consumptive. Belsen 1945
- Mervyn Peake -
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And now my poor old woman why are you crying so bitterly It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears the wind howls. Why must you mimic them
- Mervyn Peake -