Gość: nitka
IP: 195.136.246.*
06.03.06, 21:15
I cannot tell you how it was;
But this I know:it came to pass
Upon a bright and breezy day
When may was young; ah, pleasant May !
As yet the popies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last eggs had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird forgone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was;
But this I know:it did but pass.
It passed away with sunny May,
With all sweet things it passed away,
And left me old, and cold, and grey.