Across the snow-topped hills, And through the whispered trees, I wander where nature spills Her quiet ecstasies. The fragrance of pine on frost, My sinking heart finds peace; In a world that bears no cost, Love shall never cease.
- Robert Graves
Across the snow-topped hills, And through the whispered trees, I wander where nature spills Her quiet ecstasies. The fragrance of pine on frost, My sinking heart finds peace; In a world that bears no cost, Love shall never cease.