Men call you “dark.” What factory then blurred the light
Of golden suns, when nothing blacker than the shades
Of coming rain climbed up the heather-mantled height?
While the air
Breathed all the scents of all untrodden flowers,
And brooks poured silver through the glimmering glades,
Then sweetly wound through virgin ground.
Must all that beauty pass?
And must our pleasure trains
Koop dit e-boek en ontvang er nog 1 GRATIS!
Taal Engels ● Formaat EPUB ● ISBN 9786050411423 ● Bestandsgrootte 0.8 MB ● Uitgeverij L. ● Gepubliceerd 2015 ● Downloadbare 24 maanden ● Valuta EUR ● ID 5108942 ● Kopieerbeveiliging Sociale DRM