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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory. <br>T. S. ELIOT</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>It was his story. It would always be his story. <br>It followed him; it overtook him finally— <br>The boredom, and the horror, and the glory. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Probably at the end he was not yet sorry, <br>Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley. <br>It was his story. It would always be his story, </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury, <br>But signifying, O signifying magnificently <br>The boredom, and the horror, and the glory. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>I picture the snow as falling without hurry <br>To cover the cobbles and the toppled ashcans completely. <br>It was his story. It would always be his story. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Lately he had wandered between St. Mark’s Place and the Bowery, <br>Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly. <br>O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>All done now. But I remember the fiery <br>Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry. <br>It was his story and would always be his story— <br>The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Donald+Justice">Donald Justice</a></strong></div>

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