In france
Цикл английские работы
In france
The hills patched with snow
I paused upon the sun
Its rays burnt low
Like eyes of an old nun
The scene was laid in france
I kept a low profile
I spent alone a month
My spirit stood out a mile
The bad quadter of an hour
I left beyound my back
My love did not get sour
My herat was put to its sack
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