avatarMichael Madill

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385

Abstract

plash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="d96e">There is a shabby brown brick building Tucked away in the Northwest Corner of Russell Square. Before the turn of this century, I could smoke a cigarette Walking the corridors, and stub It out in an honest-to-goodness Red, sand-filled fire bucket. In the Summer afternoons, once the Undergraduates had gone, I heard Lawrence’s foots

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teps, Shod, thank God, in proper shoes. I used to pull the worn brass Handles of the lobby doors And marvel at the porter’s lodge As I passed. I marvelled, too, at the Expertise, into which I was permitted Only a glimpse, before I was turned away. I would not be trusted with the Care of the Empire, because I preferred the Pub to the Senior Common Room.</p></article></body>

East of Suez

Dieu et mon droit

Photo by Vasim Memon on Unsplash

There is a shabby brown brick building Tucked away in the Northwest Corner of Russell Square. Before the turn of this century, I could smoke a cigarette Walking the corridors, and stub It out in an honest-to-goodness Red, sand-filled fire bucket. In the Summer afternoons, once the Undergraduates had gone, I heard Lawrence’s footsteps, Shod, thank God, in proper shoes. I used to pull the worn brass Handles of the lobby doors And marvel at the porter’s lodge As I passed. I marvelled, too, at the Expertise, into which I was permitted Only a glimpse, before I was turned away. I would not be trusted with the Care of the Empire, because I preferred the Pub to the Senior Common Room.

Poetry
Poem
Academia
London
Imperialism
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