I.Krasicki - Gdy się zbiera ku zachodowi.docx

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Gdy się zbiera ku zachodowi…                                                                                                             Gdy się zbiera ku zachodowi,                                                                                                                 Idą drudzy do ogrodu,                                                                                                                                            A ja w pole między zboże;                                                                                                                              Tam, gdy w bruździe się położę,                                                                                                                Słucham jak ptaszęta nucą                                                                                                                              Jak się godzą, jak się kłócą.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Kończy się ich dzienna praca,                                                                                                                              Do gniazdeczka każde wraca;                                                                                                                              Wraca z plonem czułość matek,                                                                                                                Wita je pisk miłych dziatek;                                                                                                                              Rosa pada, czas się chłodzi,                                                                                                                              Zorze gasną, księżyc wschodzi              .                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              ...