Explore "Sorolla" by Olive Tilford Dargan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"I am fleet," said the joy of the sun, / Trembling then on the breast / Of the summer, white, still; / "I am fleet, I am gone! " / Smiling came one / With brush and a will, / Undelaying, unpressed, / And the glancing gold of the tremulous sun / Lingers for man, inescapable, won.
"Not here, nor yet there," / Cried the waves that fled, / "Shall ye set us a snare. / Motion is breath of us, / Stillness is death of us; / We live as we run, / We pause and are sped! " / Laughing came one / With brush and a will, / And the waves never die and are nevermore still.