The season’s dies: The blooming tides do glow, Old laughter dies, The world works miracles so.
By starlight do we come, Round the curtain’d shore; A love blooms here in summer’s sun, And beauty glows once more.
- William Hazlitt
The season’s dies: The blooming tides do glow, Old laughter dies, The world works miracles so.
By starlight do we come, Round the curtain’d shore; A love blooms here in summer’s sun, And beauty glows once more.