Edward Andrade quotes

Your father bears an iron reed Filled with a flame that makes us bleed; Your kindly mother loves to tear Feathers and skin to deck her hair. (Edward Andrade)
Come, take hands, you are not such As this will weary overmuch. Sit we down, and hear rehearse The marvels of the sweet-souled verse. View quote
Edward Andrade
You know the wild flowers suit your hair: Place hands full of the purple bloom Of loosestrife, glad of such soft doom, And tender-toned narcissus there. View quote
Edward Andrade