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From The Flats.

Rating: 2.7

What heartache -- ne'er a hill!
Inexorable, vapid, vague and chill
The drear sand-levels drain my spirit low.
With one poor word they tell me all they know;
Whereat their stupid tongues, to tease my pain,
Do drawl it o'er again and o'er again.
They hurt my heart with griefs I cannot name:
Always the same, the same.

Nature hath no surprise,

No ambuscade of beauty 'gainst mine eyes
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7/29/2021 11:15:42 PM # 1.0.0.666