Difference(s) between text #126542 and text #126543
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1 | 1 | The moon w | The moon grew sad. Dreaming of weeping seraphs, |
2 | 2 | amid the stillness of gossamer flowers, bow in hand, | |
3 | 3 | playing faint viols, | |
4 | 4 | their white sobs slipping over the blue of the corollae – | |
5 | 5 | it was the blessed day of your first kiss. | |
6 | 6 | Loving to torture me, my reverie | |
7 | 7 | knowingly intoxicated me with the fragrance of sadness | |
8 | 8 | that without regret or heartbreak | |
9 | 9 | itself lets the plucking of a Dream belong to the heart that plucked it. | |
10 | 10 | I was wandering, then, my eye fixed on the | I was wandering, then, my eye fixed on the old cobbles |
11 | 11 | when, with the sun on your hair, and in the evening light of the street, | |
12 | 12 | you appeared to me , laughing, | |
13 | 13 | and I thought I had seen the fairy, whose head was garlanded with light , | |
14 | 14 | that long ago passed over the enchanted dreams of my indulged childhood, | |
15 | ever letting white bouquets of perfumed stars | ||
16 | fall like snow from his half-closed hands. |
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