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The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | ||
First Rose.
“Pray, then, can you tell us, Lilies,
Where slumbers the Wind at night,
When the garden all round so still is,
And brimmed with the Moon's pale light?”
A Lily.
“In branches of great Trees he rests.”
Second Rose.
“Not so; they are too full of nests.”
“Pray, then, can you tell us, Lilies,
Where slumbers the Wind at night,
When the garden all round so still is,
And brimmed with the Moon's pale light?”
A Lily.
“In branches of great Trees he rests.”
Second Rose.
“Not so; they are too full of nests.”
The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | ||