{"id":1974,"date":"2011-12-26T16:19:27","date_gmt":"2011-12-26T16:19:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nanavati.eu\/weblog\/?p=1974"},"modified":"2011-12-26T16:19:27","modified_gmt":"2011-12-26T16:19:27","slug":"george-orwell","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/2011\/12\/26\/george-orwell\/","title":{"rendered":"George Orwell"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Not widely known for writing poems, his work is thoughtful.<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;.<\/p>\n<p>The lesser evil<\/p>\n<p>Empty as death and slow as pain<br \/>\nThe days went by on leaden feet;<br \/>\nAnd parson&#8217;s week had come again<br \/>\nAs I walked down the little street.<\/p>\n<p>Without, the weary doves were calling,<br \/>\nThe sun burned on the banks of mud;<br \/>\nWithin, old maids were caterwauling<br \/>\nA dismal tale of thorns and blood.<\/p>\n<p>I thought of all the church bells ringing<br \/>\nIn towns that Christian folks were in;<br \/>\nI heard the godly maidens singing;<br \/>\nI turned into the house of sin.<\/p>\n<p>The house of sin was dark and mean,<br \/>\nWith dying flowers round the doors;<br \/>\nThey spat the betel juice between<br \/>\nThe rotten bamboo of the floors.<\/p>\n<p>Why did I come, the woman cried<br \/>\nSo seldom to her bed of ease?<br \/>\nWhen I was not, her spirit died<br \/>\nAnd would I give her ten rupees.<\/p>\n<p>The weeks went by, and many a day<br \/>\nThat black-haired woman did implore<br \/>\nMe as I hurried on my way<br \/>\nTo come more often than before.<\/p>\n<p>The days went by like dead leaves falling,<br \/>\nAnd parson&#8217;s week came round again.<br \/>\nOnce more devout old maids were bawling<br \/>\nTheir ugly rhymes of death and pain.<\/p>\n<p>The woman waited for me there<br \/>\nAs down the little street I trod,<br \/>\nAnd musing on her oily hair,<br \/>\nI turned into the house of God.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Not widely known for writing poems, his work is thoughtful. &#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;. The lesser evil Empty as death and slow as pain The days went by on leaden feet; And parson&#8217;s week had come again As I walked down the little street. Without, the weary doves were calling, The sun burned on the banks of mud;&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[302],"class_list":["post-1974","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-daily","tag-george-orwell"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1974","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1974"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1974\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1974"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1974"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/daniel.footstepsbooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1974"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}