Jump to content

Page:Mandragora.djvu/103

From Wikisource
This page has been validated.


O child, you have made your own
   All lovely and delicate things,
And losing you, I am left alone
   In a place where no bird sings;
In a place where no reeds quiver
   Or tender rain goes by,
Nor clouds nor cooling river
   Soften the arid sky.