IDLE THOUGHTS
While I go idling in the realms of thought,
Plucking from all that nature has wrought,
Everything scented with love's perfume,
Turned to the melody of hearts in tune,
It seems to me that only this part
Is left of all the world's great heart.
Plucking from all that nature has wrought,
Everything scented with love's perfume,
Turned to the melody of hearts in tune,
It seems to me that only this part
Is left of all the world's great heart.