The Fickle Breeze
Sighing softly to the river Comes the loving breeze, Setting nature all a-quiver, Rustling through the trees! And the brook in rippling measure Laughs for very love, While the poplars, in their pleasure, Wave their arms above! River, river, little river, May thy loving prosper ever. Heaven speed thee, poplar tree, May thy wooing happy be! Yet, the breeze is but a rover, When he wings away, Brook and poplar mourn a lover! Sighing well-a-day! Ah, the doing and undoing That the rogue could tell! When the breeze is out a-wooing, Who can woo so well? Pretty brook, thy dream is over, For thy love is but a rover! Sad the lot of poplar trees, Courted by the fickle breeze!
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About this line
"Sighing softly to the river..."
This evocative piece by William Schwenck Gilbert, titled "The Fickle Breeze", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...