The pliant harebell sheep swinging in the breeze, on some gry rock:
The single sheep,
and the one blasted tree,
And the bleak music from
the old stone wall:-
In the meadows and the lover ground.
Was all the sweetness of a common dawn:-
And that green corn all day is rustling in
thine ears!
Ingen kommentarer:
Legg inn en kommentar