To you, troop so fleet, That with winged wandering feet, Through the wide world pass, And with soft murmuring Toss the green shades of spring In woods and grass, Lily and violet I give, and blossoms wet, Roses and dew; This branch of blushing roses, Whose fresh bud uncloses, Windflowers too. Ah, winnow with sweet breath, Winnow the holt and heath, Round this retreat; Where all the golden morn We fan the gold o' the corn, In the sun's heat.
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Ballads and Lyrics of Old France (8)
编辑:chaxungu时间:2022-10-13 02:47:51分类:英语诗歌
HYMN TO THE WINDS. DUBELLAY