often i long that i may cease to be trapp’d in a mind that melancholy shaped as one glutted by proserpinal seed the weight of darkness cannot be escaped for when sometime i find a trace of light yet still some nyctian thought within me burns and soon quixotic comfort fades from sight inevitably hopelessness returns and when that melancholic fit shall fall sudden from heaven, like a weeping cloud i shall not flee from pain’s stygían pall but sink deep, deep into her deathly shroud though respite brief may come of pretty lies the truth of suffering ever survivesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
