A GAME OF CHESS
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion.
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion.
T.S. Eliot - The Waste Land
