But when we in our viciousness grow hard, / (O misery on't!) the wise gods seel our eyes; / in our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us / adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut / to our confusion.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Unpredictably Irregular Poetry Exposure #1
This thing, that hath a code and not a core, Hath set acquaintance where might be affections, And nothing now, Disturbeth his reflections. -Ezra Pound
hey! i randomly picked up a collected works of monsieur pound's in december! groovy.
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