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1482

'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe—
'Tis dimmer than a Lace—
No stature has it, like a Fog
When you approach the place—
Nor any voice imply it here
Or intimate it there
A spirit—how doth it accost—
What function hat the Air?
This limitless Hyperbole
Each one of us shall be—
'Tis Drama—if Hypothesis
It be not Tragedy—

Edited by Peter Carter

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:32 PM | Viewed: 13948 times

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