Author: shreenisheeth

“Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!My spirit not awakening, till the beamOf an Eternity should bring the

From childhood’s hour I have not beenAs others were; I have not seenAs others saw; I could not bringMy passions

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight:

Beautiful star with the crimson lipsAnd flagrant daffodil hair,Come back, come back, in the shaking shipsO’er the much-overrated sea,To the

Beautiful star with the crimson lipsAnd flagrant daffodil hair,Come back, come back, in the shaking shipsO’er the much-overrated sea,To the

Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm? You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands

Tobacco smoke has consumed the air. The room is a chapter in Kruchenykh’s inferno. Remember – beyond that window in