Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire; Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss and cling to thee: Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, Still would we kiss and kiss for ever; E'en though the numbers did exceed,The yellow harvest's countless seed; To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist?--ah! never--never.
-George Gordon Byron,
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Mon blog un peu plus intimiste:
Voici Mes États-d'Âme"
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Mon blog un peu plus intimiste:
Voici Mes États-d'Âme"
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samedi 26 mai 2007
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