Sunday Aug 28, 2005

0
I sometimes think that never blows so red

The rose as where some buried Caesar bled;

That every hyacinth the garden wears

Dropt in her lap from some once lovely head.


Q. 19 - fifth version. Rubaiyat
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
grahf:
Fair's fair after all. You realized just how sensitive some people were about the topic (and how close you were to getting the boot wink) and apologized. Let bygones be bygones I say, and it wasn't fair for others to still give you shit.
thenonstopdancer:

It breaths a shitload better than leather.

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