IV - Not Cecrops kept my bees. My olives bore
Ano: 601
Not Cecrops kept my bees. My olives bore
Oil like the sun. My several herd lowed far.
The breathing traveller rested by my door.
The wet earth smells still; dead my nostrils are.
Oil like the sun. My several herd lowed far.
The breathing traveller rested by my door.
The wet earth smells still; dead my nostrils are.