Monday, February 14, 2005

"Cupid's there, quiver reversed, bow broken,
Holding a burnt-out torch.
See how sadly he walks, poor child, wings drooping,
How he beats at his bared breast,
How the tears rain down on his hair, now lying all tangled
About his throat, and his mouth's a loud O of grief.
Thus he looked, they say, long ago, when he saw his
Brother Aeneas to the grave..."

--Ovid

Posted by camden :: 2/14/2005 12:40:00 PM :: 0 Comments:

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