No idea why the last stanza of William Cowper's "The Castaway" has been stuck in my head for two days...but there you have it:
No voice divine the storm allayed,
No light propitious shone,
When, snatched from all effectual aid,
We perished, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea
And whelmed in greater gulfs than he.
It may be a little gothic to have those words on repeat in my head all day...but it's a cool poem, really. Check it out in its entirety here: The Castaway
..........
Okay, that's all I got for now.
Quintessentially yours,
~Ashley Michele~
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