A moment's neglect,
Is thy life begun.
Still I do select
As vice thee poison.
By some drunken curse,
Thou rush to fill these,
Lungs; horns of my hearse
Now bellow, no peace.
But when thy boon slow,
Flows calm in these veins,
I gaze upon thy glow;
How thee dispels pains!
No comments:
Post a Comment