A crowd flows
Took the train to London, cycled through the city to the river, via Holborn and Fleet Street, King William Street; crossed the river on Waterloo Bridge, commuters coming the other way; east on to Tooley Street. When I ride at rush hour in the city I think lines in the heads of thousands since they were composed, since I heard them at school - recorded by Eliot in Mr Lushington's English class at Westminster. He encouraged listening more than analysis. I didn't need to distinguish redemption from commuting :
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought ... And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
... Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours...
But London wasn't like this. Nor I. Lushington also explained the objective-correlative so I could understand. It still makes sense. Every second unvoiced words - phrases - assemble in my head - the river glideth...mighty heart...all bright and glittering in the smokeless air...and with the heart of May doth every beast keep holiday - correlating artlessly with my surroundings connecting them timelessly to all I've known and been taught since birth - sublime and banal, happily jostling.
The crowd, like me, did feel sprightly, flowing indeed but more like a parade than a procession. Brown fogs gone.
A crowd flows
Took the train to London, cycled through the city to the river, via Holborn and Fleet Street, King William Street; crossed the river on Waterloo Bridge, commuters coming the other way; east on to Tooley Street. When I ride at rush hour in the city I think lines in the heads of thousands since they were composed, since I heard them at school - recorded by Eliot in Mr Lushington's English class at Westminster. He encouraged listening more than analysis. I didn't need to distinguish redemption from commuting :
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought ... And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
... Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours...
But London wasn't like this. Nor I. Lushington also explained the objective-correlative so I could understand. It still makes sense. Every second unvoiced words - phrases - assemble in my head - the river glideth...mighty heart...all bright and glittering in the smokeless air...and with the heart of May doth every beast keep holiday - correlating artlessly with my surroundings connecting them timelessly to all I've known and been taught since birth - sublime and banal, happily jostling.
The crowd, like me, did feel sprightly, flowing indeed but more like a parade than a procession. Brown fogs gone.