Letters to Dead Authors - Andrew Lang
In that clear and tranquil climate, whose air breathes of “violet
and lily, myrtle, and the flower of the vine,”
_Where the daisies are rose-scented_,
_And the Rose herself has got_
_Perfume which on earth is not_,
among the music of all birds, and the wind-blown notes of flutes hanging
on the trees, methinks that your laughter sounds most silvery sweet, and
that Helen and fair Charmides are still of your company.
and lily, myrtle, and the flower of the vine,”
_Where the daisies are rose-scented_,
_And the Rose herself has got_
_Perfume which on earth is not_,
among the music of all birds, and the wind-blown notes of flutes hanging
on the trees, methinks that your laughter sounds most silvery sweet, and
that Helen and fair Charmides are still of your company.
