Of shapes that haunt Thought’s wildernesses.
Shelley.
SLEEP.
Sleep, the fresh dew of languid love, the rain
Whose drops quench kisses till they burn again.
Shelley.
Of shapes that haunt Thought’s wildernesses.
Shelley.
Sleep, the fresh dew of languid love, the rain
Whose drops quench kisses till they burn again.
Shelley.