Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

I CAN SUCK MELANCHOLY OUT OF A SONG AS A WEASEL SUCKS EGGS.

Please click to enlarge.

Please click to enlarge.

 

BUT WHATE’ER YOU ARE

THAT IN THIS DESERT INACCESSIBLE,

UNDER THE SHADE OF MELANCHOLY BOUGHS,

LOSE AND NEGLECT THE CREEPING HOURS OF TIME;

IF EVER YOU HAVE LOOK’D ON BETTER DAYS,

IF EVER BEEN WHERE BELLS HAVE KNOLL’D TO CHURCH,

IF EVER SAT AT ANY GOOD MAN’S FEAST,

IF EVER FROM YOUR EYELIDS WIP’D A TEAR,

AND KNOW THAT ‘TIS TO PITY, AND BE PITIED,

LET GENTLENESS MY STRONG ENFORCEMENT BE.

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