A lake unmoved, a clock unswung,
The birches whisper what’s unsung.
I rest my hands, I still my mind—
The hush of May is most refined.
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe
A lake unmoved, a clock unswung,
The birches whisper what’s unsung.
I rest my hands, I still my mind—
The hush of May is most refined.
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe
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