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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
cool downed anger on the time
Since last year I resided to NYC as an International student, and exploring the city on any spare time I got. Yesterday morning, I went to downtown of NYC to meet some old interesting friends. But on the way back I called a taxi through Uber company the driver got really upset on me because he got misunderstanding on the address what I told him. He was shouting from the window of taxi, then come out with scolding me, again went back to the taxi. I was looking at him and wondering that if he wants drive for me or not. Then he come out again and said sorry. Fortunately, I was not complete upset is yet my fierce anger was just impending. That sorry prevented my anger, so I smiled him and said it ok. While we are driving I knew that his English is very broken and hard to understand. He told me that he lived in the city for 21 years with kits, and people who were around him speak only Spanish. He was originally from Dominican Republic, a very conscience person. His situation reminded me Manuel of Fawlty Tower, a British comedy show.