Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen's eye
I am sick, I must die
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen's eye
I am sick, I must die
(Thomas Nashe)
1 commento:
Che meravigliosa poesia... Non la conoscevo...
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