Wraiths that the scented breath of summer raises,Ghosts of dead hours and flowers that once were fair,
Sorrel of nodding grass and white moon-daises,
Glimmer and fade upon the fragrant air.
Rosamund M. Watson.
Wednesday 6 May 2009
The Lamp and the Lute.
Wraiths that the scented breath of summer raises,Ghosts of dead hours and flowers that once were fair,
Sorrel of nodding grass and white moon-daises,
Glimmer and fade upon the fragrant air.
Rosamund M. Watson.
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