Entry tags:
T. S. Eliot
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
(Burnt Norton, The Four Quartets)
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
(Burnt Norton, The Four Quartets)