The Blossom 〜

It is the shirt of my dreams, the beauty itself, to beautiful to wear probably, but nonetheless I needed this so much in my wardrobe.
I don’t want to waste any further words that wouldn’t be adequate to this wonderful piece of fashion, except the wonderful Shakespeare poem below.
Simply feel invited to enjoy.The Blossom

 
On a day —alack the day!— 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied a blossom passing fair 
Playing in the wanton air: 
Through the velvet leaves the wind 
All unseen ‘gan passage find; 
That the lover, sick to death, 
Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath. 
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
Air, would I might triumph so! 
But, alack, my hand is sworn 
Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn: 
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! 
Do not call it sin in me 
That I am forsworn for thee; 
Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear 
Juno but an Ethiop were; 
And deny himself for Jove, 
Turning mortal for thy love. 
 
W. Shakespeare 

 

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