The Prospector (Pat O Cotter Poems)
Where the ragged, snow-capped saw tooth Cuts the azure of the skyAnd watches o'er the lonely land As ages wander by;Where the ...
Where the ragged, snow-capped saw tooth Cuts the azure of the skyAnd watches o'er the lonely land As ages wander by;Where the ...
When February's chilling winds Swept through the forest glen,And nothing, save the smoking hut, Marked the abodes of men,I through my lattice ...
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