Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze most softly lulling to my soul. John Keats. Endymion (bk. I, l. 681)
Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze most softly lulling to my soul. John Keats. Endymion (bk. I, l. 681)
Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze most softly lulling to my soul. John Keats. Endymion (bk. I, l. 681)