T.S. Eliot (Thomas Stearns Eliot) ( 2 of 2 )
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
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April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
