Monday 8 October 2007 photo 2/2
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Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word. The coward does it with a kiss, The brave ma with a sword! Some kill their love when they are young, and some when they are old; Some strangle with the hands of Lust, Some with the hands of gold: The kindest uses a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold. Some love too little, some too long Some sell, and other buy; Some do the deed with many tears, And some without a sigh: For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die. He does not die a death of shame On a day of dark disgrace, Nor have a noose about his neck, Nor a cloth upon his face, Nor drop feet foremost through the floor Into an empty space.
Annons
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Anonymous
Mon 8 Oct 2007 17:58
the ballad of reading gaol ey? fuck vad den känns rätt
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