Beschreibung:
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. The Late Singer
Here it is spring again
and I still a young man!
I am late at my singing.
The sparrow with the black rain on his breast
has been at his cadenzas for two weeks past:
What is it that is dragging at my heart?
The grass by the back door
is stiff with sap.
The old maples are opening
their branches of brown and yellow moth-flowers.
A moon hangs in the blue
in the early afternoons over the marshes.
I am late at my singing.
The Late SingerHere it is spring againand I still a young man!I am late at my singing.The sparrow with the black rain on his breasthas been at his cadenzas for two weeks past:What is it that is dragging at my heart?The grass by the back dooris stiff with sap.The old maples are openingtheir branches of brown and yellow moth-flowers.A moon hangs in the bluein the early afternoons over the marshes.I am late at my singing.