Enobarbus:
The barge she sat in, like a burnis'd throne/Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold./Purple the sais, and so perfumed/ That the winds were lovesick with them./ The oars were silver, which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made/ The water which they beat to follow faster/ As amorous of their strokes.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:50
Consiglia
Voto
Nessun dato in archivio
Commenti
Nessun dato in archivio
