Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind
Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain,
Full of sweet desolation—balmy pain.
I stood tip-toe upon a little Hill; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind
Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain,
Full of sweet desolation—balmy pain.
I stood tip-toe upon a little Hill; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).