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Stephen Vincent Benet - Dulce RidentemStephen Vincent Benet - Dulce Ridentem
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The bee, he has white honey, The Sunday child her muff, The rich man lots of money Though never quite enough, The apple has a Springtime smell, The star-fields silver grain, But I have youth, the cockleshell, And the sweet laugh of Jane. The lark`s tune goes so clearly But Jane`s is clear wells. The cuckoo`s voice currs cheerly, But Jane`s is new bells. Whether she chuckles like a dove, Or laughs like April rain, It is her heart and hands and love, The moth-wing soul of Jane.
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