To: Mudboy Slim
See where she comes, and smell how all the street,
Breathes vineyards and pomegranates: oh, how sweet!
As a fired altar is each stone,
Perspiring pounded cinnamon.
The phoenix-nest,
Built up of odours, burneth in her breast.
Who therein would not consume
His soul to ash-heaps in that rich perfume.
Robert Herrick (15911674)
33 posted on
11/21/2002 1:25:18 PM PST by
sultan88
To: sultan88; dead
She ain't bitin'...MUD
FreeRepublic.com is powered by software copyright 2000-2008 John Robinson