|
H |
|
C |
|
|
|
|
|
Summer soothes the sounds of bees with books, and the grass covets the feet of a foreign princess: time folds the hands of the clock over XII. The crickets mimick cantos in the willow-garden. |
and the dragon break from combat beyond the Tartar Wall - a horn sweetly summoning them to tea-taking shared with beggars in the shade. |
|
Bacchanal |
97 Bus |
Thoth |
||
|
||||