Caricamento in corso...


He. Dear, I must be gone
 While night Shuts the eyes
 Of the household spies;
 That song announces dawn.
She. No, night’s bird and love’s
 Bids all true lovers rest,
 While his loud song reproves
 The murderous stealth of day.
He. Daylight already flies
 From mountain crest to crest
She. That light is from the moon.
He. That bird...
She.                     Let him sing on,
 I offer to love’s play
 My dark declivities.
Piaciuto o affrontato da...
Altre opere di W. B. Yeats...