large/11091/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_17_stein_64kb_2
large/11091/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_17_stein_64kb
English
11091
And from tall, tapering mullein towers And minarets of green, The honey bee muezzins drone To bloodroot buds between, That pilgrim wise along the road Come trooping to the light, In pale green caftans closely wound And turbans spotless white. AND FROM TALL TAPERING MULLEN TOWERS AND MINARETS OF GREEN THE HONEY BEAM MOISINS DRONE TO THE BLOOD RUB BUTT BETWEEN THAT PILGRIM WISE ALONG THE ROAD COME TROOPING TO THE LIGHT IN PALE GREEN KAFTANS CLOSELY WOUND IN TURBANS SPOTLESS WHITE
liness; Then suddenly o’er everything Great shouts and martial echoes ring! I see thee, storm-like, rushing past Thy hand upon the carven mast, And harken whilst thy proud lips fling The loud, triumphal trumpet blast! O glorious image! what if time Hath smitten with ungentle touch Thy perfect beauty? Still sublime Thou art a conqueror, and still All men unite to name thee such! Before thee all my pulses thrill, Old hopes and dreams awake in me; O Victory, Lead, lead but thou mine eager will, I follow fast and far until Some day my ship shall harbor thee! _AS TO THE SUMMER AIR THE ROSE_ As to the summer air the rose Pours forth her perfume all the day, For every careless wind that blows To scatter far away, So gives my heart to thee the rare Fine fragrance of its sweetest thought, And thou art heedless as the air Whereto the rose is naught! _A WOOD FANCY_ The mandrakes lift, like little mosques, Their domes between the vines, And butterflies for worshipers Are flocking to their shrines.  A WOOD FANCY BY EVELIN STEYNE READ FOR LIVER VOXTA ORG BY SYLVESTER LAND THE MAN DRAKES LIFT LIKE LITTLE MOSQUES THEIR DOMES BETWEEN THE VINES AND BUTTERFLIES FOR WORSHIPPERS ARE FLOCKING TO THEIR SHRINES
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