Читать книгу Bread and Circuses - Helen Parry Eden - Страница 8

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Within our garden walls you see A huge old-fashioned mulberry Whose purple fruit in summer falls Into the shade below the walls.

Its blackened trunk grows grim and hard From the harsh gravel of the yard, Its crest beholds the winds go by And scans the milky evening sky.

And like this tree my soul makes mirth, (Though rooted deep in blackened earth) For it shall grow till it hath sight (The walls o’er-topped) of endless light.