The Fool's Lament
I am somewhat given to melancholy, Lord,
Said the Fool,
And though I would give you the mirth that you crave,
All that I work is coloured by sadness,
Whatever I will.
My mother cried when I was born
And there was no star to dance
By way of salvation
And I was coloured by that,
Whatever I will.
And whatever I will my colour is black:
The colour of warmth, ...
Sunday 1st April 2018 10:14 am
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