Heavy with flowers
As my heart with love!
As a little wind serveth
To scatter thy blossom,
So a young lover only
Is needed to ravish
The heart from my bosom.”
This might be typical of all. We convinced ourselves that we caught in them echoes of a once familiar innocence, and we wept over our lost Eden. Truly the indulging of introspection is the opportunity of the imagination.
To many brave souls Gardel’s peasant ballads were the requiem—
“Passez, la Dormette,