Poor little soul all lost: you were my guest, The fine friend of my flesh. Where since, so pale, So stiff, so naked? No fun now in the dark. —Kevin Hart (...)
Poetry
Poor Little Soul
(after Hadrian)
The remainder of this article is only available to paid subscribers. If you’re not currently a Commonweal subscriber in print or online, an online-only subscription costs just $34 a year. Click here for immediate access.
