PSYCHOLOPHON - Sir John Suckling Poems


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(Supposed to Be Translated from the Old Parsee)

Twine then the rays
  Round her soft Theban tissues.
All will be as She says,
  When the dead Past reissues.
Matters not what nor where,
  Hark, to the moon's dim cluster!
How was her heavy hair
  Lithe as a feather-duster!
Matters not when nor whence;
Sound make the song, not sense,
  Thus I inhibit!