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0 sats \ 4 replies \ @Coinsreporter 22h \ parent \ on: Most comments wins 👀 meta
Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while. ---William Butler Yeats
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Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. W.B. Yeats
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So runs my dream, but what am I? An infant crying in the night An infant crying for the light And with no language but a cry. Lord Alfred Tennyson
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Sometimes the heart sees what's invisible to the eye. ---Tennyson
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The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait.
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