我的书签
添加书签
移除书签But Not to Me
The April night is still and sweetWith flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me.
My peace is hidden in his breastWhere I shall never be, Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me.
The April night is still and sweetWith flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me.
My peace is hidden in his breastWhere I shall never be, Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me.
