Posted by Umema Siddiqi
on
Monday, April 05, 2004
in
blah blah blah
When lonely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentence to her lover,
And wring his bosom__ is to die.
|
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentence to her lover,
And wring his bosom__ is to die.
|
