But he felt not the cool
Of the sun-splotched woods
Nor the mad blue brilliance
Of the sea.
III.
I see green fields
In the first flush of the spring,
And little children playing,
Clustered as patches of white flowers.
But he felt not the cool
Of the sun-splotched woods
Nor the mad blue brilliance
Of the sea.
I see green fields
In the first flush of the spring,
And little children playing,
Clustered as patches of white flowers.