A poem for the wordsmiths out there:
The Death of Allegory
by Billy Collins
I am wondering what became of all those tall abstractions
that used to pose, robed and statuesque, in paintings
and parade about on the pages of the Renaissance
displaying their capital letters like license plates.
Read the rest of this visual poem here.
I find this line particularly memorable:
The Valley of Forgiveness is lined with condominiums
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