“ And where they fly for dinner no one knows-- The dew-drops feed them not--they love the shine Of noon, whose sun may bring them golden wine. All day they're playing in their Sunday dress-- Till night goes sleep, and they can do no less ”
“ And where they fly for dinner no one knows-- The dew-drops feed them not--they love the shine Of noon, whose sun may bring them golden wine. All day they're playing in their Sunday dress-- Till night goes sleep, and they can do no less ”
