And what art, can then
suffice, or right,
I have the great
command; into
what we more, that
sat fast by the hand.
Unless be meant, at
their eyes in sudden
view appear
the better fight,
then springs as
broke from despair.
Texts:
T.S. Eliot, Poems
John Milton, Paradise Lost
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment