 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
As for me, I found a thicket bush of broom,
Nigh hand; whereunder I might drowse a space.
On freshing herb, in that sweet morrows breath.
Nigh hand; whereunder I might drowse a space.
On freshing herb, in that sweet morrows breath.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |