Aloof
Though the sun shines down on a warm day
I am lost with the lion of a departed March
To the warm breeze that would hold sway
I am aloof, cold, and ironed starch
Aloof
Though the sun shines down on a warm day
I am lost with the lion of a departed March
To the warm breeze that would hold sway
I am aloof, cold, and ironed starch
Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.
Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.
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