The year’s is at the spring,
And day’s at the morn; Morn at seven;
The hillside’s dew pearled; The lark’s on the wing
The Snail’s on the Thorn:
God’s in Heaven
All’s Right with the World!
(We had nothing whatsoever to have been worried about.)
My Escape From Coronavirus
The year’s is at the spring,
And day’s at the morn; Morn at seven;
The hillside’s dew pearled; The lark’s on the wing
The Snail’s on the Thorn:
God’s in Heaven
All’s Right with the World!
(We had nothing whatsoever to have been worried about.)