“Mozart”
The sunshine, and the grace of falling rain, The fluttering daffodil, the lilt of bees, The blossom on the boughs of almond trees, The waving of the wheat upon the plain— […]
The sunshine, and the grace of falling rain, The fluttering daffodil, the lilt of bees, The blossom on the boughs of almond trees, The waving of the wheat upon the plain— […]
More mighty than the hosts of mortal kings, I hear the legions gathering to their goal; The tramping millions drifting from one pole, The march, the counter-march, the flank that swings. […]