ARTHUR S. CRIPPS.

* * * * *

O Summer sun, O moving trees!

O cheerful human noise, O busy glittering street!

What hour shall Fate in all the future find,

Or what delights, ever to equal these:

Only to taste the warmth, the light, the wind,

Only to be alive, and feel that life is sweet?

Primavera: Poems by Four Authors · 第 33 / 36 题