A lie, it may be black or white;
I care not for the lie:
My grief is for the tortured breath
Of Truth that cannot die.
And cruelty, what that may be,
What creature understands?
But O, the glazing eyes of Love,
Stabbed through the open hands!
Poetósfera › La Biblioteca › Josephine Preston Peabody
Josephine Preston Peabody · Vanguardias / s. XX
inglés
A lie, it may be black or white;
I care not for the lie:
My grief is for the tortured breath
Of Truth that cannot die.
And cruelty, what that may be,
What creature understands?
But O, the glazing eyes of Love,
Stabbed through the open hands!
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