| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
3o4 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
||
|
v He loiters in a golden light,
Is led with dulcet lure By ghostly town, by towered height,
A tuneful troubadour.
VI
He pines for soft imagined eyes Where Active fervor beams,
And woes with phantom tears and sighs The faery dame of dreams.
VII
O'er Provence breathing, nimble air, Blown keen by dale and sea,
O subtle, playful spirit rare, O wanton witchery,
VIII
Well, well I love that land of thine,
Its peaks and ferny caves, And fields of olive, orange, vine,
Blue bays, and breaking waves ! |
||
|
THE MYSTERY
Y
EAR after year The leaf and the shoot; The babe and the nestling, The worm at the root; The bride at the altar, |
||
|
|
||