XVIII.
Could we blame him with grave words, Thou and I, Dear, if we might? Thy brown eyes have looks like birds Flying straightway to the light: Mine are older.--Hush!--look out-- Up the street! Is none without? How the poplar swings about!
Could we blame him with grave words, Thou and I, Dear, if we might? Thy brown eyes have looks like birds Flying straightway to the light: Mine are older.--Hush!--look out-- Up the street! Is none without? How the poplar swings about!