I could break your very soul-
But where's the point, and what's the goal?
It's the least and lowest art
To seize upon a wearied heart.
When love has fled and hope is gone
It's but a shell that lingers on-
But in each shell one hears the sea
And that, my dear, is where I'll be.
But where's the point, and what's the goal?
It's the least and lowest art
To seize upon a wearied heart.
When love has fled and hope is gone
It's but a shell that lingers on-
But in each shell one hears the sea
And that, my dear, is where I'll be.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
kaikai:
I really love the idea of this poem but I find it wanders into far to many directions. I question who really has the wearied heart here and can anyone really break someones soul?
aristophanes:
That's a pretty poem.