Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale. From what land do you come, O Swan ? to what shore will you fly ? Where would you take your rest, O Swan, and what do you seek ? Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise, follow me ! There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule: where the terror of Death is no more. There the woods of spring are a-bloom, and the fragrant scent He is I is borne on the wind: There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed, and desires no other joy.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Nov 2014 00:18:07 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015