评论
打印
Distrustful of the Gentian --
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy --
Weary for my ----------
I will singing go --
I shall not feel the sleet -- then --
I shall not fear the snow.
Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee --
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie --
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go --
Hangs so distant Heaven --
To a hand below.
