Saturday, 20 September 2008


For all I have wrote within these pages Ne’er doth my Soul waste, as the body ages; Some verse to find at times brings pain, Yet causeth not the heart’s flow to wane But pump more strongly, with added vigour, Each line an exertion of Literal Rigour. If I was deaf, and dumb and blind, Still would the Muse take hold this mind; Mayhap a poet I shalt never be, But in Life once breathed the Scent of Immortality.

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