Читать книгу Many Voices - Эдит Несбит - Страница 15

O thrush, is it true?

   Your song tells

Of a world born anew,

Of fields gold with buttercups, woodlands all blue

   With hyacinth bells;

Of primroses deep

   In the moss of the lane,

Of a Princess asleep

And dear magic to do.

Will the sun wake the princess?  O thrush, is it true?