Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Early Poems
Then think I of deep shadows in the grass, Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze, Where, as the breezes pass, The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass, Or whiten in the wind, of waters blue That from the distance sparkle through Some woodland gap, and of a sky above Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move.
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