Thursday, 26 November 2015

die Krone des Naherin

The slaving seamstress has a swain who, her smile to wheedle,
Mimes stitching up his lips lest her heart escape
Beauty's thread, in the eye of its needle,
Is ever Ariadne's abandoned rape

Prince! Make Drunkenness thy Ind lest Darkness abort
 & Love's bitter ends hold sacred its knot.

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