You may charge of me of murder
or want of sense.....
We're all of us weak at times,
But the slightest approach to a false pretense
Was never among my crimes!!!
Me.....
- Ipshita
- Indore, Madhya Pradesh, India
- I love the stillness of the wood: I love the music of the rill: I love to couch in pensive mood Upon some silent hill. Scarce heard, beneath yon arching trees, The silver-crested ripples pass; And, like a mimic brook, the breeze Whispers among the grass. Here from the world I win release, Nor scorn of men, nor footstep rude, Break in to mar the holy peace Of this great solitude.....
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