"Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove,
Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother’s hate,
Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate
As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love:
He bears a load which nothing can remove,
A killing, withering weight."
Percy Bysshe Shelley
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments may be moderated and will appear within 12 hours if approved.