Unwritten Poems
Fairy spirits of the breeze —
Frailer nothing is than these.
Fancies born we know not where —
In the heart or in the air;
Wandering echoes blown unsought
From far crystal peaks of thought;
Shadows, fading at the dawn,
Ghosts of feeling dead and gone:
Alas! Are all fair things that live
Still lovely and still fugitive?
Frailer nothing is than these.
Fancies born we know not where —
In the heart or in the air;
Wandering echoes blown unsought
From far crystal peaks of thought;
Shadows, fading at the dawn,
Ghosts of feeling dead and gone:
Alas! Are all fair things that live
Still lovely and still fugitive?
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.