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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
Do you believe that city's life make you rude?
I ever read an article on a website which mentioned about the correlation between them. It was tending to our unaware and egoism deeds that were caused by our busy in real life. Do you agree with this and why?could you give some reasons about your points of views based on that fact.
I thank you for your participating then.