This much, O heavenif I should brood or rave, Pity me not; but let the world be fed, Yea, in my madness if I strike me dead, Heed you the grass that...
A Prayer in Darkness
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poetry
The Praise Of Dust
"What of vile dust?" the preacher said. Methought the whole world woke,The dead stone lived beneath my foot, And my whole body spoke."You, that...
The Donkey
When fishes flew and forests walked And figs grew upon thorn, Some moment when the moon was blood Then surely I...