Note (return) — THE MONTHS
Reading edition
The poetry of earth is never dead; When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead: That is the grasshopper's.1
Reading edition
The poetry of earth is never dead; When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead: That is the grasshopper's.1