The Daughter (Matilda Betham Poems)
"Come, mournful lute! dear echo of my woe! No stranger's tread in this lone spot I fear, Sweeter thy notes in such ...
"Come, mournful lute! dear echo of my woe! No stranger's tread in this lone spot I fear, Sweeter thy notes in such ...
ALL through the party she stood, saying nothing.Talk fluttered around her; quick gay wordsLike spring-enchanted birdsDarted, their wings flashing with ...
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