Bridges all fall; ashes
Happen to things that burn.
Inflamed for you, my body yearns
And soars before it crashes.
No rosey fever fading fast!
A pocket of flame for your touch,
Ignited toward incineration I rush
With scarce a wave or backward glance.
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What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god!
