The Gardener: 32 by Rabindranath Tagore Tell me if this be all true, my lo When these eyes flash their lightn Is it true that my lips are sweet Do the memories of vanished months Does the earth, like a harp, shive
The Unheeded Pageant by Rabindranath Tagore Ah, who was it coloured that littl your sweet limbs with that little You have come out in the morning t tottering and tumbling as you run. But who was it coloured that littl
Éloga de liseo by Vicente Espinel Al tiempo que la clara luz hermosa de oscuridad destierra el accident y las doradas flores esparcen por el campo mil olores, el blanco lirio, y la purpúrea ros 2