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.
Tags: away, bee, brook, dying, eyes, fear, gentian, sing, singing, snow


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