English poem
Xxxiv
Her step seemed to pity the grass it prest; You might hear by the heaving of her breast, That the coming and going of the wind Brought pleasure there and left passion behind.
Versos English Percy Bysshe Shelley Xxxiv
Versos English Percy Bysshe Shelley Xxxiv
English poem
Her step seemed to pity the grass it prest; You might hear by the heaving of her breast, That the coming and going of the wind Brought pleasure there and left passion behind.