Explore "The Wheel of the Breast" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Through rivers of veins on the nameless quest / The tide of my life goes hurriedly sweeping, / Till it reaches that curious wheel o' the breast, / The human heart, which is never at rest. / Faster, faster, it cries, and leaping, / Plunging, dashing, speeding away, / The wheel and the river work night and day.
I know not wherefore, I know not whither, / This strange tide rushes with such mad force: / It glides on hither, it slides on thither, / Over and over the selfsame course, / With never an outlet and never a source; / And it lashes itself to the heat of passion / And whirls the heart in a mill-wheel fashion.