My awkward grossness grows: I go down, through
I maintain my self in the conviction
that I have as much to say as others
and more apposite ways of saying it
Certainly I feel it has all been said
The short fear is that even saying it
in my own way is equally pointless
More verses by Ben Jonson
- Song To Celia - I
- Opening Doors
- Vi: To The Same
- A Celebration Of Charis: Iv. Her Triumph
- Simplex Munditiis