Читать книгу Happy Days for Boys and Girls - Various - Страница 15

O, MY princely flower, shall I never win

To your moated citadel within,

To your guarded thought?

The pansies are proud; but they show to me

Their purple velvets from over the sea,

With gold inwrought.

And they gently smile wherever we meet;

They seem to me like proud ladies sweet

From a foreign shore.

Wild primrose buds in my very hand

Their odorous evening stars expand,

And all their lore.

But your strange eyes gleam as they pass me by,

And seem to dream of a warmer sky,

Far over the sea.