O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
William Wordsworth
GONE WERE BUT THE WINTER COLD
"Gane were but the winter cauld,
And gane were but the snaw,
O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
William Wordsworth
"Gane were but the winter cauld,
And gane were but the snaw,