推 spacedunce5:hits a soft spot in me 09/19 00:25
I do confess that I write not for love.
'Tis a dreary labor I myself commit
Without flaming passion nor clever wit,
Only lines my unglutted lust to prove.
I can see through in a desolate rove:
What by nature deserves an earthy pit,
A forced melancholic's base wish to fit
Is raised in verse to a hall high above.
For my own poetry now I do deny
With another poem meaningless to read,
Yet in the dark I seek a tender eye
To know my vacant heart and wanting need.
Ye happy ones, mark my self-innuendo,
O that raves in what meta-inferno!
--
Where words fail, music speaks.
--
※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc)
◆ From: 140.119.203.47