XII.
In lands I never saw, they say, Immortal Alps look down, Whose bonnets touch the firmament, Whose sandals touch the town, --
Meek at whose everlasting feet A myriad daisies play. Which, sir, are you, and which am I, Upon an August day?
In lands I never saw, they say, Immortal Alps look down, Whose bonnets touch the firmament, Whose sandals touch the town, --
Meek at whose everlasting feet A myriad daisies play. Which, sir, are you, and which am I, Upon an August day?