(a play by Howard Brenton about Byron and the Shelleys)
it whispered to me from memory's recesses,
out of a black box in Columbus
but this journey started with Charlotte's Rochester
that libertine bedded me,
handed me over to Byron
who bound me in his stanzas
led me to the shores of Lake Geneva
into Mary's arms where I
was carried off to Italy
boarded Don Juan's recklessness,
drowned and was burned alive while
stepping from the mind into nature
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