III

Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,

Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;

Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,

While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.

And we swing, swing,

While your branches sing,

And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

Flint and Feather: Collected Verse · 第 38 / 124 题