poetry illustration
In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit MDCCCXXXIII: 3. O Sorrow, cruel
By Lord Alfred TennysonSource: Lord Alfred Tennyson - PoetryDB (Public Domain)88 words
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship, O Priestess in the vaults of Death, O sweet and bitter in a breath, What whispers from thy lying lip? "The stars," she whispers, "blindly run; A web is wov'n across the sky...
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