Reposted by Benedict Sangster
When looking in my doorstopper Victorian Lit text ("The Victorian Age," eds. Bowyer & Brooks) from back in the college days, I think of all the words within that few will read again. I always loved this poem by Robert Bridges. ("Triolet" - a poem of 8 lines w/only 2 rhymes).
![SO LONG, SEE YOU TOMORROW
[...] mother were able to look at each other without embarrassment. Whether he had as lonely a time as I did when he first moved to Chicago. And whether the series of events that started with the murder of Lloyd Wilson - whether all that finally began to seem less real, more like something he dreamed, so that instead of being stuck there he could go on and by the grace of God lead his own life, undestroyed by what was not his doing.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:eggppznnh72764tczmkgntx2/bafkreigf5nxpleshfjdqm32ec6avmczs5lros3ao5msmultclx5xln573y)
