Читать книгу Poems - Henry Reed Conant - Страница 11
SONG.
ОглавлениеNot always the prettiest flowers
Fill the air with the sweetest perfume;
And not always the sweetest singer
Is the bird with the fairest plume.
But the sweetness surpassing all other,
And the richest and tenderest strain,
Rise out of the bosom that knoweth
The feelings of love and pain.