When its rocks

Thrill and ring

As with glee?

Has my king

Cast off me,

Whom no bird

Flying south

Brings one word

From his mouth?

Not the ghost

Of a word.

Riding post

Have I heard,

Since the day

When my king

Took away

With him spring,

And the cup

Of each flower

Shrivelled up

 Prev. P 28/50 next