All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired.
I call:“Where are you?”
But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The sun shines in on your books,
On your scissors and thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
...
|
Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, Now, in the sea's red vintage melts the sun |
Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, |