'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
Time, still as he flies, adds increase to her truth, and gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories