Читать книгу Belford's Magazine, Vol II, No. 10, March 1889 - Various - Страница 7

She is not dead, but sleepeth. As the fair,

Sweet queen, dear Summer, laid her sceptre down

And lifted from her tirèd brows her crown,

And now lies lapped in slumber otherwhere —

As she will rise again, when smiling May,

Saying, "Thy day dawns," wakes her with a kiss,

And butterflies break from the chrysalis

And throng to welcome her upon her way,

And roses laugh out into bloom for glee

That Summer is awake again – so she

Who sleeps, snow-still and white, will waken when

The Day dawns – and will live for us again.