XXV
It was summer when I found you
In the meadow long ago,—
And the golden vetch was growing
By the shore.
Did we falter when love took us 5
With a gust of great desire?
Does the barley bid the wind wait
In his course?
It was summer when I found you
In the meadow long ago,—
And the golden vetch was growing
By the shore.
Did we falter when love took us 5
With a gust of great desire?
Does the barley bid the wind wait
In his course?