Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson — Volume 2 by Robert Louis Stevenson
page 8 of 426 (01%)
page 8 of 426 (01%)
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DAMNED BAD LINES IN RETURN FOR A BEAUTIFUL BOOK Youth now flees on feathered foot. Faint and fainter sounds the flute; Rarer songs of Gods. And still, Somewhere on the sunny hill, Or along the winding stream, Through the willows, flits a dream; Flits, but shows a smiling face, Flees, but with so quaint a grace, None can choose to stay at home, All must follow - all must roam. This is unborn beauty: she Now in air floats high and free, Takes the sun, and breaks the blue; - Late, with stooping pinion flew Raking hedgerow trees, and wet Her wing in silver streams, and set Shining foot on temple roof. Now again she flies aloof, Coasting mountain clouds, and kissed By the evening's amethyst. In wet wood and miry lane Still we pound and pant in vain; Still with earthy foot we chase Waning pinion, fainting face; Still, with grey hair, we stumble on Till - behold! - the vision gone! |
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