To you I sing, whom towns immure, you across whose aching sight TO And you, O Sad, who still endure To you I sing ! But most to you with eyelids pure, with bird-like glances bright, Half-paused to speak, half-poised in flight ;--O English Girl, divine, demure, To you I sing! |
0 Apžvalgos Atsiliepimai nepatvirtinti, bet Google ieško netikro turinio ir jį šalina, jei jis aptinkamas Rašyti apžvalgą |