Forbidden Hopes



    Nay, barren are those mountains and spent the streams:
    Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams,
                A throe of the heart,
Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound,
    No dying cadence nor long sigh can sound,
                For all our art.

-Robert Bridges (1844-1930),
Nightingales







images © 2000 by Randy Wang
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