Night The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine, The birds are silent their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower, In heaven^s high bower, With silent delight

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Night The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine, The birds are silent their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower, In heaven^s high bower, With silent delight, Sits and smiles on the night.

1 de abr de 2015 07:18

Correções · 3

Night

The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine,
The birds are silent their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven^s high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.

William Blake - circa 1798<em> (add the attribution)</em>

1 de abril de 2015

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