Learn more about other poetry terms
"Centuries after centuries, maidens after maidens " Love is a poisoned medicine Perhaps dwelling in utopia Corpse, a mere metaphor Brook of tear murmurs My broken cupid!
Enticed by her lustful allure The Casanova had to stare His next conquest, he was so sure She’d concur to a night’s affair She said “You’re broken. I’ve no cure. No magic treatment down below.”