Without it, marble-templed cities reaching
Without it, marble-templed cities reaching
Long piers into the sea were but as dens
For untamed beasts—as most unwholesome fens,
Stagnant and damp. Without it, the beseeching
Bosom of Nature, whereon poets lie,
Were but a cromlech gaunt, on which men well might die.
Long piers into the sea were but as dens
For untamed beasts—as most unwholesome fens,
Stagnant and damp. Without it, the beseeching
Bosom of Nature, whereon poets lie,
Were but a cromlech gaunt, on which men well might die.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.