Explore "To_ -- -- (a Threefold Cord)" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I cannot write old verses here, / Dead things a thousand years away, / When all the life of the young year / Is in the summer day.
The roses make the world so sweet, / The bees, the birds have such a tune, / There's such a light and such a heat / And such a joy this June,
One must expand one's heart with praise, / And make the memory secure / Of sunshine and the woodland days / And summer twilights pure.
Oh listen rather! Nature's song / Comes from the waters, beating tides, / Green-margined rivers, and the throng / Of streams on mountain-sides.
So fair those water-spirits are, / Such happy strength their music fills, / Our joy shall be to wander far / And find them on the hills.