To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay
 Rather on earth, Belovàd—where the unfit
Contrarious moods of men recoil away
 And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day,
 With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

  By PanEris using Melati.

Previous chapter/page Back Home Email this Search Discuss Next chapter
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details.