He arose laden with doubt as to how he should begin. He looked back at the bed where the grindstone lay. He looked out at the world, the most famous experimental prison of its time. Beyond the torture stakes he could see, nothing. Yet he could see.
He arose laden with doubt as to how he should begin. He looked back at the bed where the grindstone lay. He looked out at the world, the most famous experimental prison of its time. Beyond the torture stakes he could see, nothing. Yet he could see.
“
O’ small-feac’d flow’r that now does bloom
To stud wi’ white the shallow Frome,
An’ leave the clote to spread his flow’r
On darksome pools o’ stwoneless Stour,
When sof’ly-rizen airs do cool
The water in the sheenen pool,
The beds o’ snow-white buds do gleam
So feair upon the sky-blue stream,
As whitest clouds, a-hangen high
Avore the blueness of the sky
“
William Barnes