English poem
Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes
by John Keats
Sweet, sweet is the greetings of the eyes And sweet is the voice in its greeting. When adieux have grown old and goodbyes Fade away when old time is retreating.
Warm the nerve of a welcoming hand and earnest a kiss on the brow, When we meet over the sea and o'er land Where furrows are new to the plough.