Strangeness
How strange that I should care
Whether my heart expresses
The witching mysteries that lair
In the wind's soft caresses.
How strange that I should long
To leash in speech undying
The wood-wild evanescent throng
Of odours round me flying.
How strange that I should hear
A bird-note, then think heaven,
Or earth itself, could be made clear
With six right words—or seven!
Whether my heart expresses
The witching mysteries that lair
In the wind's soft caresses.
How strange that I should long
To leash in speech undying
The wood-wild evanescent throng
Of odours round me flying.
How strange that I should hear
A bird-note, then think heaven,
Or earth itself, could be made clear
With six right words—or seven!
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