|
|
May thrush.
Collection: Poems and songs (1802)
From my brother the lily of the woods
I don't have touching it emblem ; But
the lawn knows my voice And
the breeze tells me: "I love you ! "I
embalm the places where I grow, And
the dew on my pale forehead Put
pearls, - like kings Never
have any in their tiara.
To the first songs of the nightingale,
I let you run on the ground
My little white bells,
Which say to the child dreamer : "The buds star the branches,
This is the return of happiness. "From me to you, who am I?
The pretty lily of the valley of the first of May!
Antoine Spinelli.
Collection: Poems and songs (1802)
From my brother the lily of the woods
I don't have touching it emblem ; But
the lawn knows my voice And
the breeze tells me: "I love you ! "I
embalm the places where I grow, And
the dew on my pale forehead Put
pearls, - like kings Never
have any in their tiara.
To the first songs of the nightingale,
I let you run on the ground
My little white bells,
Which say to the child dreamer : "The buds star the branches,
This is the return of happiness. "From me to you, who am I?
The pretty lily of the valley of the first of May!
Antoine Spinelli
|
