๏ปฟThe wind sounds like a silver wire, And from beyond the noon a fire Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher The skies stoop down in their desire; And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight.
Alfred Lord TennysonThere is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
Alfred Lord Tennyson