THE WEASEL thieves in silver suit,
The rabbit runs in gray;
And Pan takes up his frosty flute
To pipe the cold away.
The flocks are folded, boughs are bare,
The salmon take the sea;
And O my fair, would I somewhere
Might house my heart with thee!
"Somewhere," by John Vance CheneyPosted by naomi at Enero 5, 2004 03:41 PM