The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under ; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift... Tait's Edinburgh Magazine - Página 331editado por - 1832Vista completa
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S. George Philander - 2004 - 275 páginas
...crystals that sometimes stick together to form snowflakes in a variety of shapes. On such occasions I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines...pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast. My presence requires continual evaporation, condensation, and precipitation. To what end? I do it for...