A tenor big and fresh while the creation fills me personally, The orbic flex of their lips is pouring and filling me personally complete.
I hear the train’d soprano (what use hers is it? ) The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors that we call Being from me i did not know I possess’d them, It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick’d by the indolent waves, I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath, Steep’d amid honey’d morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes of death, At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles, And. Read more