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EARLY POEMS
But the strains still arise
Which thy keep :
The sound of the rain,
Which leaps down to the flower
And dances again
In the rhythm of the shower,
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass,
Are the music of things,
But are modelled, alas !
EARLY POEMS
But the strains still arise
Which thy keep :
The sound of the rain,
Which leaps down to the flower
And dances again
In the rhythm of the shower,
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass,
Are the music of things,
But are modelled, alas !
Poe - v10
