Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour,
Rains from the sky a meteoric shower
Of facts... they lie unquestioned, uncombined.
Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill
Is daily spun; but there exists no loom
to weave it into fabric.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
_-_The_Shepherdess_(1889).jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment