THESE palms weave shadows of delight,
But the truant heart flies forth
To birch-boles glistening more than white
In the forests of the North.
Northward
written byKatharine Lee Bates
© Katharine Lee Bates
THESE palms weave shadows of delight,
But the truant heart flies forth
To birch-boles glistening more than white
In the forests of the North.
© Katharine Lee Bates