Now folds the lily all her sweetness up
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip,
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
( A.Lord Tennyson)
Sist sett
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip,
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
( A.Lord Tennyson)