Edgar Poe
Março 6, 2008 at 9:06 pm Publicar um comentário
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol’s diamond eye
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
Gostar disto:
Be the first to like this .
Entry filed under: Messages. Tags: .
I guess every Jigsaw falls into place… sooner or later… deletion…
Trackback este artigo | Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed