(Bordered to the south by fields of green maize)
The dawn is still.
No trembling leaf
Betrays the trace
Of passing breeze.
Each blade of maize
In the great field
Before the house
Awaits the sun.
(Bordered to the south by fields of green maize)
The dawn is still.
No trembling leaf
Betrays the trace
Of passing breeze.
Each blade of maize
In the great field
Before the house
Awaits the sun.
Seven silver buttons
On my dress of midnight blue
There’s a wish on every button,
Which I hope will each come true.
(Lucy’s new dress from Austria)