Iambic.dev

Ay, _shame_, my lord—there is no longer possess.

And I have passed open their eyes our tears and its highest need.

Fetters of superstitious fear have bound the race die out for hope.

He shaped one world: A million lives, upon a million spheres.

As in the light.

All the poems on this site are generated by an AI. Register or Login to be able to post, the above poem and vote on plenty others!