Books (Alexander Anderson Poems)
The beings of the mind are not of clay; Essentially immortal, they createAnd multiply in us a brigher ray, And ...
The beings of the mind are not of clay; Essentially immortal, they createAnd multiply in us a brigher ray, And ...
THE summer comes again, yet nothing bringsOf him but memories of that clear-lit eye,That voice, that presence that can never ...
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