Стихи и рассказы из категории season

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Dull to myself, and almost dead to
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing
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The rainy season is
And the skirt of my dress is wet
You have gone off to distant lands,
And my heart finds it unbearable
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If night should come and find me at my toil,
When all Life's day I had, tho' faintly, wrought,
And shallow furrows, cleft in stony soil Were all my labour:  Shall I count it
If only one poor gleaner, weak of hand,
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By the road of
In the three-part shadow of troubled sleepI come to you the double the multipleas like you as the era of deltas
Your head is as tiny as
The nearby sea reigns with
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Hidden, oh hidden in the high fog the house we live in, beneath the magnetic rock, rain-, rainbow-ridden, where blood-black bromelias, lichens, owls, and the lint of the waterfalls cling, familiar, unbidden
In a dim age of water the brook sin...
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The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale; The nightingale with feathers new she sings, The turtle to her make hath told her tale
Summer is come, for every spray now springs, The hart ha...
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