
Reading through the Renaissance poets again - and finding again this line that just drives me nuts. From Campion.
There is a garden in her face.
So, I thought I would ask, what is one of your favorite worst lines of poetry.
Lear: And my poor fool is hanged. No, no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more, never, never, never. Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, sir. O, O, O, O.