Things look phantastic in this dimness of the dusk—the spires whose bases are lost in the dark and tree tops like blots of ink.
I shall wait for the morning and wake up to see thy city in the light.
Things look phantastic in this dimness of the dusk—the spires whose bases are lost in the dark and tree tops like blots of ink.
I shall wait for the morning and wake up to see thy city in the light.