Time: An Enigma
Ever eating, never cloying,
All-devouring, all-destroying,
Never finding full repast
Till I eat the world at last.
More poems by Jonathan Swift
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The Vowels: An Enigma
We are little airy creatures,
All of different voice and features;
One of us in glass is set, … -
Tonis ad Resto Mare
Air: “o Mary, heave a sigh for me.”
O MARE æva si forme;
Forme ure tonitru; …