The Murderer (Laura Sophia Temple Poems)
Hark ! to the muttering blast of NightThat sweeps o'er the heath its ruffling wing ;Now does it rush o'er ...
Hark ! to the muttering blast of NightThat sweeps o'er the heath its ruffling wing ;Now does it rush o'er ...
A WORD is ringing thro' my brain, It was not meant to give me pain; It had no tone to ...
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