Sunday, March 11, 2012

Apropos of the Wet Snow

When from out of error's daarkness
With a word both sure and ardent
I had drawn the fallen soul,
And you,filled with deeper torment,
Cursed the vice that had ensnared you
And so doing wrung your hands;
When,punishing with recollection
Forgetful conscience,you then told
The tale of all that went before me,
And suddenly you hid your face
In trembling hands and,filled with horror,
Filled with shame,dissolved in tears,
Indignant as you were,and shaken....

From the poetry of N.A.Nekrasov

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