CategoryJohn Le Gay Brereton



Spring, and the wispy clouds that fade awayAnd draw the ecstatic soul in pain to aspireIn maddening flight through heaven’s thin flood of fireTo melt in rapture at the heart of day,The powers of the world that promise and betrayHave dragged me from you in their icy ireAnd set me spinning at their loom, for hire,The shroud in which my senses must decay.For hire I give myself, and cannot tellIf the...