Primitive. That's why one would prosper her soul in this heaven. It seems the stars have fallen down on earth and within the core of every house there are new born babies. O Lord, are you really there?
I guess it was dew that the little girl was holding, little precious thing. Was it an ode or a hymn that I heard, I am not so sure. Hitherto, the mossy trees in the woods are scaring me, and his breath over my skin.
I see a nymph by the river and probably some wise men pondering. There is no ebb & flow.