*Soft is the wind ere the trees
And rough is my voice running through each
As are flowers in the month of June, so beautiful
And yet cursed by the coming fall
As after which, above the earth, all else will fall
Until the clouds and morning dew have meld in, above the heath
Ungrown as I am in the mind of you
But it would not be so, if you would see me through*
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 9:24 AM UTC
*Soft is the wind ere the trees
And rough is my voice running through each
As are flowers in the month of June, so beautiful
And yet cursed by the coming fall
As after which, above the earth, all else will fall
Until the clouds and morning dew have meld in, above the heath
Ungrown as I am in the mind of you
But it would not be so, if you would see me through*
