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From The Upland To The Sea

Rating: 2.8

Shall we wake one morn of spring,
Glad at heart of everything,
Yet pensive with the thought of eve?
Then the white house shall we leave,
Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,
Through the garth, and go our ways,
Wandering down among the meads
Till our very joyance needs
Rest at last; till we shall come
To that Sun-god’s lonely home,

Lonely on the hill-side grey,
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7/26/2021 9:37:41 PM # 1.0.0.664