Читать книгу Poems - French Nora May - Страница 8

OH, Dryad thoughts of lovely yesterday! —

You melted through a sunny wood like mist,

With here a wind of laughter, there a stray

Pleased flower, tipped and kissed.

To-day among the noises of the street,

The press of faces, sullen, gay, and wise,

I hear you calling, calling me; I meet

Your clear, untroubled eyes.