The Belated Swallow (Mary Hannay Foott Poems)
Belated swallow, whither flying?The day is dead, the light is dying, The night draws near:Where is thy nest, slow put together,Soft-lined ...
Belated swallow, whither flying?The day is dead, the light is dying, The night draws near:Where is thy nest, slow put together,Soft-lined ...
1917 (To Lyde of the Music Halls) What boots it on the Gods to call? Since, answered or unheard, We ...
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