O City! O latest Throne! Where I was rais'd To be a mystery of loveliness Unto all eyes, the time is well-nigh come When I must render up this glorious home To keen Discovery: soon yon brilliant towers Shall darken with the waving of her wand; Darken, and shrink and shiver into huts, Black specks amid a waste of dreary sand, Low-built, mud-wall'd, Barbarian settlements. How chang'd from this fair City!' "Timbuctoo" by Alfred Tennyson Who didn't think this particularly poem was any good. He put it together to enter a contest because his father urged him to. He won.
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