"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in heroic couplets
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Here's an attempt at rewriting T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in heroic couplets: Let us go then, you and I, on this eve, When the night spreads out against the sky, a tranquil reprieve; Like a patient etherized upon a table, let us explore Half-deserted streets, muttering retreats of restless nights in cheap hotels galore. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that lingers on the sills and drains, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, Seeing that it was a soft October night, curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed, there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window panes, time yet To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; Time for a hundred indecisions, visions and revisions before the taking of toast and tea. In the room, the women come and go, speaking of Michelangelo. Dare I disturb the universe? In a minute, there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. Though I have seen my head upon a platter, I am no prophet, and here's no great matter. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves, combing the white hair of the breakers blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. I have lingered in chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown, Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in heroic couplets
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"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in heroic couplets
Here's an attempt at rewriting T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in heroic couplets: Let us go then, you and I, on this eve, When the night spreads out against the sky, a tranquil reprieve; Like a patient etherized upon a table, let us explore Half-deserted streets, muttering retreats of restless nights in cheap hotels galore. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that lingers on the sills and drains, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, Seeing that it was a soft October night, curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed, there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window panes, time yet To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; Time for a hundred indecisions, visions and revisions before the taking of toast and tea. In the room, the women come and go, speaking of Michelangelo. Dare I disturb the universe? In a minute, there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. Though I have seen my head upon a platter, I am no prophet, and here's no great matter. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves, combing the white hair of the breakers blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. I have lingered in chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown, Till human voices wake us, and we drown.