 Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof The stars peep behind her and...  Class-book of English poetry - Page 300by English poetry - 1866Full view - About this book
 | Rodney Farnsworth - Art - 2001 - 360 pages
...Which only the angels hear. May have hroken the woof of my tent's thin roof. The stars peep behind her and peer: And I laugh to see them whirl and flee. Like a swarm of golden bees. When 1 widen the rent in my wind,buiIt tent. Till the calm rivers. lakes. and seas. Like strips of the sky... | |
| |
