Author: David Schwarm
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X
And one with trembling hands clasps his cold head, And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries, “Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead; Set, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes, Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies A tear some Dream has loosen’d from his brain.” Lost Angel…
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IX
Oh, weep for Adonais! The quick Dreams, The passion-winged Ministers of thought, Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught The love which was its music, wander not– Wander no mare, from kindling brain to brain, But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn…
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Bags
Collection Collection of six bags which I want to reduce to one–there is likely categories that I can ignore–Work, Play, Exercise–and try to just have one of each of those. Work My work bag has a lot of stuff–folders, magazines, hat, pencil, etc. Daily Here is my daily bag and the things I keep in…
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Wilde
“I have said to you to speak the truth is a painful thing. To be forced to tell lies is much worse.”
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VIII
He will awake no more, oh, never more! Within the twilight chamber spreads apace The shadow of white Death, and at the door Invisible Corruption waits to trace His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place; The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface So fair a…
David Given Schwarm 