Oreheus To Woods Poem by Richard Lovelace
Oreheus To Woods
Rating: ★2.7
Heark! Oh heark! you guilty trees,
In whose gloomy galleries
Was the cruell'st murder done,
That e're yet eclipst the sunne.
Be then henceforth in your twigges
Blasted, e're you sprout to sprigges;
Feele no season of the yeere,
But what shaves off all your haire,
Nor carve any from your wombes
Ought but coffins and their tombes.
Tuesday, December 31, 2002
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5/3/2024 8:32:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
