Men call you “dark.” What factory then blurred the light
Of golden suns, when nothing blacker than the shades
Of coming rain climbed up the heather-mantled height?
While the air
Breathed all the scents of all untrodden flowers,
And brooks poured silver through the glimmering glades,
Then sweetly wound through virgin ground.
Must all that beauty pass?
And must our pleasure trains
https://www.gandhi.com.mx/71a070a9-aa37-3ed5-b6ef-de79c06d14e41342430The Dark Ages<p>Men call you “dark.” What factory then blurred the light<br />
Of golden suns, when nothing blacker than the shades<br />
Of coming rain climbed up the heather-mantled height?<br />
While the air<br />
Breathed all the scents of all untrodden flowers,<br />
And brooks poured silver through the glimmering glades,<br />
Then sweetly wound through virgin ground.<br />
Must all that beauty pass?<br />
And must our pleasure trains</p>https://kbimages1-a.akamaihd.net/Images/c5926399-1835-477a-8376-bf2b4bb9d71e/300/300/False/image.jpg65instock656500000https://www.gandhi.com.mx/media/catalog/product/2021-11-13T16:05:05+0000POE005030L. .Epub 2POE005030