Читать книгу Poems, and The Spring of Joy - Mary Webb - Страница 12

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Face to face with the sunflower,

Cheek to cheek with the rose,

We follow a secret highway

Hardly a traveller knows.

The gold that lies in the folded bloom

Is all our wealth;

We eat of the heart of the forest

With innocent stealth.

We know the ancient roads

In the leaf of a nettle,

And bathe in the blue profound

Of a speedwell petal.