In slime upon that sea,
And slimy things find birth therein
To live in death, like me.
I find no peace, I know no rest,
My very self I fly;—
Unfit to love, unfit to live,
And far less fit to die!
THE WEATHER FIEND.
Of the weather
Ask us whether
In slime upon that sea,
And slimy things find birth therein
To live in death, like me.
I find no peace, I know no rest,
My very self I fly;—
Unfit to love, unfit to live,
And far less fit to die!
Of the weather
Ask us whether