Стихи и рассказы из категории pity

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They amputated Your thighs from my waist
For me they are always Surgeons
All of them
They dismantled us One from another
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Cruel of heart, lay down my song,
Your reading eyes have done me wrong,
Not for you was the pen bitten,
And the mind wrung, and the song written
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1 Ever musing I delight to tread The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed On disappointed Love
While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush Sings sweet and Melancholy,
And the thrush Converses with the Do...
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They
Your thighs off my hips
As far as I'm
They are all surgeons
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God has pity on kindergarten children,
He pities school children — less
But adults he pities not at all
He abandons them,
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I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary,
Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast;
I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary,
I lament for her woes, and her wrongs unredressed
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