<p><i>LET us go then, you and I,	<br />
When the evening is spread out against the sky	<br />
Like a patient etherised upon a table;	<br />
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,	<br />
The muttering retreats	       <br />
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels	<br />
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:	<br />
Streets that follow like a tedious argument	<br />
Of insidious intent	<br />
To lead you to an overwhelming question …	      <br />
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”	<br />
Let us go and make our visit.	</i><br />
<br />
I have had this poem in my head for a couple of days now.  Extra points if you recognize it from the opening lines!  It&#39;s my favorite from way, way back.  You probably had to read it when you were in school, and like me, were overwhelmed by the length.  I gave up on it a couple of times.  Then I read it in sections and fell in love with it.  I hope someone out there does as well.  </p>

<p>Anyways, the rest of the poem is <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/198/1.html">here</a>.  I&#39;m going to serialize it, first of all to not scare you, my lovely readers, but also to savor it for myself.  </p>

<p>And if you are wondering why I&#39;m doing this...well, why not?  I wrote so much crap on this website I feel it should be balanced with words that are actually witty.  Enjoy.</p>
