Aneurin’s Harp (George Meredith Poems)
IPrince of Bards was old Aneurin;He the grand Gododin sang;All his numbers threw such fire in,Struck his harp so wild ...
IPrince of Bards was old Aneurin;He the grand Gododin sang;All his numbers threw such fire in,Struck his harp so wild ...
A crown of glory joy forever living with our savior our hope at the end of the race to see ...
In the city set upon slime and loam They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?' And there comes no ...
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must ...
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