Hill-tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun,
And the rivers we're eying burn to gold as they run;
Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air;
Whoever looks round sees Eternity there.
John Clare: www.poetryfoundation.org/poet...
Thank you, Chris Wood - beautiful track.
Негізгі бет Mad John, by Chris Wood. From the album Trespasser
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