Monologue

Ino Monologue from Proserpine

From Proserpine by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

female · contemplative · 41 sec

:My lap's heaped up with sweets; dear Proserpine, :You will not chide me now for idleness;– :Look here are all the treasures of the field,– :First these fresh violets, which crouched beneath :A mossy rock, playing at hide and seek :With both the sight and sense through the high fern; :Star-eyed narcissi & the drooping bells :Of hyacinths; and purple polianthus, :Delightful flowers are these; but where is she, :The loveliest of them all, our Mistress dear?

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