CRASHAW, Richard
By all those stings
Of love, sweet bitter things,
Which these torn hands transcrib’d on thy true heart
O teach mine too the art
To study him so, till we mix
Wounds; and become one crucifix.
CRASHAW, Richard
By all those stings
Of love, sweet bitter things,
Which these torn hands transcrib’d on thy true heart
O teach mine too the art
To study him so, till we mix
Wounds; and become one crucifix.