One of my favorite poems, by one of my favorite poets, Richard Crashaw (1613-1649)
Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast Sucked
by Richard Crashaw
Suppose he had been Tabled at thy Teats,
Thy hunger feels not what he eats:
He'll have his Teat ere long (a bloody one).
The Mother then must suck the Son.
Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast Sucked
by Richard Crashaw
Suppose he had been Tabled at thy Teats,
Thy hunger feels not what he eats:
He'll have his Teat ere long (a bloody one).
The Mother then must suck the Son.
How will we know, when the morning comes, we are still human? - 2D
Don't worry, my friend. If this be the end, then so shall it be.
Don't worry, my friend. If this be the end, then so shall it be.