The Green Bowl – Caprice (rússia) – letras

This little bowl is like a mossy poolIn a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets growNodding in chequered sunshine of trees;A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds,Where, though unseen, is heard the endless songAnd murmur of the never resting sea.’T was winter, Roger, when you made this cup,But coming SpringGuided your eager handAnd round the edge you fashioned young green leaves,A proper chalice made to hold the shyFlowers…They will forget their sad uprooting, lostIn pleasure that this circle of leavesShould be their setting; once more they’ll dreamThey hear winds wandering through lofty treesAnd see the sun smilingAnd see the sun smilingbetween the leaves.