O ivory, delicate hands! O face that hovers Between ‘To-come’ and ‘Was,’ Ivory thou wast, A rose thou wilt be.
“So Good Luck came, and on my roof did light, Like noiseless snow; or as the dew of night: Not all at once, but gently, as the trees Are, by the sunbeams, tickled by degrees.”
Robert Herrick | “The Coming of Good Luck”
INSTAGRAM
BANDCAMP
YOUTUBE