Wallace Stevens - The Weeping Burgher lyrics
[Wallace Stevens - The Weeping Burgher lyrics]
It is with a strange malice
That I distort the world
Ah! that ill humors
Should mask as white girls
And ah! that Scaramouche
Should have a black barouche
The sorry verities!
Yet in excess, continual
There is cure of sorrow
Permit that if as ghost I come
Among the people burning in me still
I come as belle design of foppish line
And I, then, tortured for old speech
A white of wildly woven rings
I, weeping in a calcined heart
My hands such sharp, imagined things
That I distort the world
Ah! that ill humors
Should mask as white girls
And ah! that Scaramouche
Should have a black barouche
The sorry verities!
Yet in excess, continual
There is cure of sorrow
Permit that if as ghost I come
Among the people burning in me still
I come as belle design of foppish line
And I, then, tortured for old speech
A white of wildly woven rings
I, weeping in a calcined heart
My hands such sharp, imagined things