 | The lion's cub |  |
SPEECH AND SILENCE.
What's spoken here none discloses;
Gone, like a breath, out of reach
Are the free, light words of each:
Our mouths are silent roses
About our budding speech.
Gone, like a breath, out of reach
Are the free, light words of each:
Our mouths are silent roses
About our budding speech.
I am the bard of the roses,
You, sweet one, are the dew,
Slipped out of heaven's blue,
Where Love, on his bed reposes,
Dreaming, dear heart, of you.
You, sweet one, are the dew,
Slipped out of heaven's blue,
Where Love, on his bed reposes,
Dreaming, dear heart, of you.
| The lion's cub | |