Over there, on wings aloft, The sun seems warm, the hills seem soft. The fence before divides asunder. Shall one go over, through or under? Spikes the leaves in point of fact, For such points as these are not abstract. Over there, by wings' span spread, One seeks to know the fountainhead.
Over there, on wings aloft,
ReplyDeleteThe sun seems warm, the hills seem soft.
The fence before divides asunder.
Shall one go over, through or under?
Spikes the leaves in point of fact,
For such points as these are not abstract.
Over there, by wings' span spread,
One seeks to know the fountainhead.