Excerpt from A Magazine of Letters, Vol. 13
Time was when poets spun The precious burden of the brain into Cocoons of song wherein their souls might live; But now, like geometric spiders, nets They weave to catch the iridescent flies That buzz ephemeral opinions. This tale was told by one who neither spun Nor wove, but, like a bard-imago, passed His life extracting nectar from all blooms That blow upon the poison-weeds that mar The sunlit garden of experience.
Part I. - the screen. I knew a man some years ago, or, thought I knew him, rather; tagged him off as cold, Hard, formal, an avaricious man.
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HRD. Condizione: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. Established seller since 2000. Codice articolo LX-9780666529770
Quantità: 15 disponibili