Monologue

Pierrot Monologue from A Dramatic Fantasy

From A Dramatic Fantasy by Ernest Dowson

male · romantic · 33 sec

Cold are thy lips, more cold than I can tell; Yet would I hang on them, thine icicle! Cold is thy kiss, more cold than I could dream Arctus sits, watching the Boreal stream: But with its frost such sweetness did conspire That all my veins are filled with running fire; Never I knew that life contained such bliss As the divine completeness of a kiss.

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