Writing is a solitary occupation.
quote by Bernard Cornwell
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Related quotes
Killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give if we cry?
Will we live, yeah
Or will we die?
Oh
Jaded hearts (hearts)
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
If we try
And live your lives
The way you wanna be
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Yeah, yeah
Racism in amongst the future kings can only lead to no good and
Besides, all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Love, love, love, yeah
song performed by Sugababes
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Truth and the Devil
The devil unstoppably took pride in salaciously writing; the book of
obnoxious caste-creed and venomously penalizing hatred,
The devil unstoppably took pride in acrimoniously writing; the book of
indiscriminate bloodshed and disastrously traumatizing ruthlessness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in vengefully writing; the book of
tyrannical devastation and lecherously bellicose orphaning,
The devil unstoppably took pride in fretfully writing; the book of
vindictive war and satanically criminal holocausts,
The devil unstoppably took pride in maliciously writing; the book of
coldblooded barbarism and manipulatively bizarre malice,
The devil unstoppably took pride in forlornly writing; the book of
worthless
ghosts and mortuaries brutally anointed with fresh blood,
T The devil unstoppably took pride in indigently writing; the book of
nonchalant spuriousness and fecklessly insipid meaninglessness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in torturously writing; the book of
ominous
animosity and hedonistically pugnacious illwill,
The devil unstoppably took pride in dictatorially writing; the book of
licentious bawdiness and insanely threadbare nothingness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in heinously writing; the book of
lascivious poverty and baselessly crippling uncertainty,
The devil unstoppably took pride in savagely writing; the book of
despicable
defeat and lethally ballistic atrociousness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in raunchily writing; the book of
dolorous
delinquency and insidiously slandering betrayal,
The devil unstoppably took pride in preposterously writing; the book of
scurrilous lunatism and barbarously incarcerating fiendishness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in frigidly writing; the book of
jejune
mockery and impudently castigating brazenness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in heartlessly writing; the book of
ghastly
bloodshed and indefatigably bombarding politics,
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Beautiful Occupation
Don't just stand there watching it happening
I can't stand it don't feel it
Something telling me
Don't wanna go out this way
Have a nice day
Read it in the headlines
Watch it on the tv
Put it in the background
Stick it in the back
Stick it in the back
For the beautiful occupation
The beautiful occupation
Don't need an invitation
To drop in upon a nation
Up to city come
I'm just sittin here
I'm just wastin my time
Half a million civilians gonna die today
They looked the wrong way
Read it in the headlines
Watch it on the tv
Put it in the background
Stick it in the back
Stick it in the back
For the beautiful occupation
The beautiful occupation
you don't need an invitation
to drop in upon a nation
Don't just stand there watching it happening
I can't stand it dont feel it
Something telling me
Dont wanna go out this way
Have a nice day
Read it in the headlines
Watch it on the tv
Put it in the background
Stick it in the back
Stick it in the back
For the beautiful occupation
The beautiful occupation
You don't need an invitation
To drop in upon a nation
For the beautiful occupation
The beautiful occupation
So much for an intervention
Don't call the united nations
song performed by Travis
Added by Lucian Velea
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When I wasn't breathing
When I wasn’t blissfully snoring; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
cistern of stupendously rhapsodic and gloriously majestic Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t unsurpassably fantasizing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
garden of ingeniously magical and miraculously mitigating Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t superbly adventuring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
an
ocean of bountifully resplendent and timelessly undefeated Immortal
Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t scrumptiously relishing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
playground of optimistically enlightening and unbelievably royal
Immortal
Love Poetry,
When I wasn’t limitlessly triumphing; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cascade of beautifully panoramic and effulgently liberating Immortal
Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t pricelessly smiling; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
lantern of unendingly vibrant and inscrutably tantalizing Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t gloriously partying; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
paradise of eternally vivacious and pristinely redolent Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t unassailably inspiring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
festoon of incredulously ameliorating and perpetually compassionate
Immortal
Love Poetry,
When I wasn’t magnanimously feasting; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cocoon of symbiotically philanthropic and ubiquitously coalescing
Immortal
Love Poetry,
When I wasn’t ebulliently fornicating; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
mist of wonderfully reinvigorating and blessedly burgeoning Immortal
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Solitary Man
Melinda was mine
til the time
That I found her
Holding jim
Loving him
Then sue came along
Loved me strong
Thats what I thought
Me and sue
But that died too
Dont know that I will
But until I can find me
A girl wholl stay
And wont play games behind me
Ill be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
Ive had it to here
Bein where
Loves a small world
Part-time thing
Paper ring
I know its been done
Having one
Girl who loves you
Right or wrong
Weak or strong
Dont know that I will
But until I can find me
The girl wholl stay
And wont play games behind me
Ill be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary
man
song performed by H.I.M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Writing To
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Writing every emotion..
With such a white background.
It makes no sound
Even as the keys I pound.
Let my words have bite
Let from my words drip out meanings beyond meanings
Its something I try to be constantly be achieving.
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
I want every heart and mind
Sucked in cause this is my world stage
No sense of the time.
Never to turn the page
Stuck in to a world oh so oh so fine
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Listen to her melody, as she sings.
Let chaos reign down from the skies
What will this day really bring?
Will the letter say good bye?
Will it mend everything?
Making everything better.
Destroying all the consequences
That exist in your world.
Welcome to the place I visit daily.
Inspirational maddness,
It attacks, attacks, and attacks.
With perfect sadness
I must let go once more.
And then the words hit the floor
Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
Becoming one with my soul.
Fighting for its one and only control.
Its mine, Its mine. Its mine.
In this reality it subsequently is not
A constant questioning of what?
Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Solitary One
You know it gets too much and sometimes she cries like a baby
But shes almost certain itll pass when she becomes a lady
But while shes still a young girl love is avoiding her
And thank God for the radio and the color tv, oh, oh, oh, oh
Heroes are hard to find in the cold world but not in her mind
And shes talking to jesus during the radio station breaks
And shes on her knees, pourin on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she listens to the records, playing on the radio
And shes falling in love with a singer
Now shes feelin better and shes feelin good
But shes coming down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one
And hurrying home oh God its been one of those bad days
But with a flick of a switch and a twist of the dial
She gets love on the airwaves
And they send her favorite lovers to keep her satisfied
And shes talkin to jesus during the radio station breaks
And shes on her knees falling on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she listens to the records playing on the radio and shes fallin
In love with a singer
Now shes feelin better cause shes feelin good
But shes comin down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary the solitary one all alone solitary one
And shes on her knees pouring on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Whos Been Writing On The Wall Again
Someone keeps on telling me how much he loves me so
Writes it on the wall outside so I will always know
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori, I love you , lori, I love you
Evry evening I come home , its waiting there for me
Three little words, one little voice , someone I cant see
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hes write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when I meet him ,Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hed write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when meet him , Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again (fade)
song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Something
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.
I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.
I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.
I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.
I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?
I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?
I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,
[...] Read more
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Killer
Brother
Sister
It's the loneliness thats the killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give
If we cry
Will we live
Or will we die
Jaded hearts
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
If we try
And live our lives
The way we wanna be
Yeah
Brother brother
Sister sister
Brother brother brother brother brother
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no love
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Solitary Sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Racism in among future kings can only lead to no good
Besides all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
song performed by Seal from Debut
Added by Lucian Velea
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Killer/papa Was A Rollin Stone
So you want to be free
To live your life the way you wanna be
Will you give if we cry
Will we live or will we die
Tainted hearts heal with time
Shoot bad love so we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
If we try to live our lives
The way we wanna be
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Racism in future kins can only lead to no good
And besides, all our sons and daughters already
Know how that feels
(adam tinley/henry samuel)
Was the third of september
That day Ill always remember, yes I will
cause that was the day that my daddy died
Never had a chance to see him, no
Never heard nothing but bad things about him
Mama, Im depending on you to tell me the truth
Mama just hung her head and said
Chorus
Papa was a rollin stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
(repeat)
Hey, mama, is it true what they say
That papa never worked aday in his life
Some bad talk going around sayin
Papa had three outside children
And another wife
That aint right
Heard some talk about papa and his storefront
Preachin
[...] Read more
song performed by George Michael
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Killer
So you want to be free
To live your life the way you wanna be
Will you give if we cry
Will we live or will we die
Tainted hearts heal with time
Shoot bad love so we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother, is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Solitary sister, is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
Solitary brother,is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Solitary sister, is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
If we try to live our lives
The way we wanna be
Solitary brother, is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Solitary sister,is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
Solitary brother, is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Salitary sister, is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
Racism in future kings can only lead to no good
And besides, all our sons and daughters already
Know how that feels
song performed by George Michael
Added by Lucian Velea
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Writing On The Wall
Words and music by rick nielsen
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
In the midwest and in the east.
Canada, southwest, around the world,
L.a., tokyo, sounds so sweet,
Come on honey, get on your feet.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
The words were oh, so...
The words were oh, so clear.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
Saw it at the airport, it was on t.v.
Read it in a magazine, runnin down the street.
Makes no sense, but I hope its gonna last,
The next big thing, I really gotta laugh.
Worked and slaved and played like hell,
Everybodys goin crazy, youre the last to know.
Cant explain it, still a joke to me,
Maybe Im naive, cause its so plain to see.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Played like hell, whoa!
Played like hell, whoa!
song performed by Cheap Trick
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Peter Bell, A Tale
PROLOGUE
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.
And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!
The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!
Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!
Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.
Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.
Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!
The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Idols
An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore
Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.
Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.
Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
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The Wino & I Know
By: jimmy buffett
1974
The ice cream man hes a hillbilly fan
Got seventy-eights by hank snow
Walks down the street, shufflin his feet
To a rhythm that only he knows
And Ive seen him in so many places
I saw him the night I was born
In a bourbon street bar, I received my first scar
From an old man so tattered and torn
Chorus:
And the wino and I know the pain of street singin
Like a door-to-door salesman knows the pains of bell ringin
Strange situation, wild occupation
Livin my life like a song
Coffee is strong at the cafe du monde
Donuts are too hot to touch
Just like a fool, when those sweet goodies cool
I eat til I eat way too much
cause Im livin on things that excite me
Be they pastry or lobster or love
Im just tryin to get by bein quiet and shy
In a world full of pushin and shove
Chorus:
And the wino and I know the pain of back bustin
Like the farmer knows the pain of his pickup truck rustin
Strange situation, wild occupation
Livin my life like a song
Sweet senorita wont you please come with me
Back to the island honey, back to the sea
Back to the only place that I want to be
Chorus:
And the wino and I know the joy of the ocean
Like a boy knows the joy of his milkshake in motion
Strange situation, wild occupation
Livin my life like a song
Yes its a strange situation, a wild occupation
Livin my life like a song
song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
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The Blood Red Rose
A solitary rose,
it could not understand
why it was deprived of life
by the cultivator's hand.
A solitary rose,
clutched in a mourner's fingers
waits the presenting of the flag
as the last note of "Taps" still lingers
A solitary Rose,
it could not understand
why its life was at the mercy
of the passing of this man.
A solitary Rose
wise beyond its time
is accepting of its fate
as the mourners stand in line
A solitary rose
flung upon a box of wood.
feels the sun a final time
as it is covered up for good.
Our ancestors made sacrifice
to expiate their sin.
The blood red rose, symbolic
of what flows beneath our skin.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Deserted Village
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, where every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o'er your green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene;
How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made;
How often have I blessed the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play,
And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree:
While many a pastime circled in the shade,
The young contending as the old surveyed;
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;
And still as each repeated pleasure tired,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired;
The dancing pair that simply sought renown
By holding out to tire each other down!
The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,
While secret laughter tittered round the place;
The bashful virgin's sidelong look of love,
The matron's glance that would those looks reprove:
These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,
With sweet succession, taught even toil to please;
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,
These were thy charms—But all these charms are fled.
Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green:
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain:
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But choked with sedges works its weedy way.
Along thy glades, a solitary guest,
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bowers, in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall;
And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
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poem by Oliver Goldsmith
Added by Poetry Lover
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