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This poem has always fascinated me with its amazing imagery, which the changing meter only enhances. I feel that I can _almost_ see it, _almost_ envision it, _almost_ understand what it is and where it is going -- yet it's just out of my grasp. The sunny dome, yet caves of ice; the peaceful pleasure of it, yet rumors of war to come . . . in the end, perhaps, the dangerousness of poetry itself. Of course, there is then the Stevie Smith response . . . https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46848/thoughts-about-the-person-from-porlock

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