The Impeachment Of Night.
Perch Febo non torce. What time bright Phoebus doth not stretch and bend His shining arms around this terrene sphere, The people call that season dark and drear Night, for the cause they do not comprehend. So weak is Night that if our hand extend A glimmering torch, her shadows disappear, Leaving her dead; like frailest gossamere, Tinder and steel her mantle rive and rend. Nay, if this Night be anything at all, Sure she is daughter of the sun and earth; This holds, the other spreads that shadowy pall. Howbeit they err who praise this gloomy birth, So frail and desolate and void of mirth That one poor firefly can her might appal.
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"Perch Febo non torce...."
Exploring the themes of classic, Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni delivers a powerful performance in "The Impeachment Of Night."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...