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Casting The Body's Vest Aside, My Soul Into The Boughs Does Glide.
-Andrew Marvell
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Casting The Body's Vest Aside,
Andrew Marvell
Casting The Body's Vest Aside, My Soul Into The Boughs Does Glide.
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Soul
Doe
Body
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See How The Orient Dew, Shed From The Bosom Of The Morn Into The Blowing Roses, Yet Careless Of Its Mansion New; For The Clear Region Where 'twas Born Round In Its Self Encloses: And In Its Little Globes Extent, Frames As It Can Its Native Element.
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No White Nor Red Was Ever Seen So Am'rous As This Lovely Green. Fond Lovers, Cruel As Their Flame, Cut In These Trees Their Mistress' Name. Little, Alas, They Know Or Heed How Far These Beauties Hers Exceed! Fair Trees! Where S'e'er Your Barks I Wound, No Name Shall But Your Own Be Found.
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