Читать книгу Bread and Circuses - Helen Parry Eden - Страница 17

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When the Wind comes up the lane And you go down— The elms their spacious branches swing, The hidden hedgelings sing and sing, The nettle draws aside his sting And kindly weeds their shadows fling Across your sunny gown;— When the Wind comes up the lane And you go down.

When the Wind comes up the lane And you go down— Your tresses, for a gusty space, Discover all your merry face And the Wind drops with pinioned grace To kiss the small white forehead place Above your summer brown;— When the Wind comes up the lane And you go down.