At the head of Flora's dance; Simple Snow-drop, then in thee All thy sister-train I see; Every brilliant bud that blows, From the blue-bell to the rose; All the beauties that appear, On the bosom of the Year, All that wreathe the locks of Spring, Summer's ardent breath perfume, Or on the lap of Autumn bloom, All to thee their tribute bring.
You have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast.william shakespeare
Ye waves That o'er th' interminable ocean wreathe Your crisped smiles.
Create and save customized flash cards. Sign up today and start improving your vocabulary!