pull down to refresh
0 sats \ 1 reply \ @Coinsreporter 27 Apr \ parent \ on: Most comments wins 👀 meta
Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.
Christoper Marlowe, The Tragical History
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song.
Edmund Spenser
reply