III.
Thou hast cruel thorns
Beneath thy rich leaves lying,
But she is soft and gentle
As Æolian music sighing;
Thou heedest not the murmur
Of Zephyr when he sings,
But see her dark eyes flashing
When I touch my golden strings.
Thou hast cruel thorns
Beneath thy rich leaves lying,
But she is soft and gentle
As Æolian music sighing;
Thou heedest not the murmur
Of Zephyr when he sings,
But see her dark eyes flashing
When I touch my golden strings.