|
|
|
Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! -John Keats (1795-1821), Ode to a Nightingale |
| If you have enjoyed my photographs, please consider making a donation to an innovative education project led by us, a project that seeks to help poor kids in rural India. |