The Wheel
Through winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter’s best of all;
And after that there’s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come–
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
http://kanzxian.motogunluk.com/
http://blogs.vibbo.co.uk/kanzxian/
http://fuyoh.org/kanzxian/
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