Sand Martins (Jean Ingelow Poems)
I passed an inland-cliff precipitate; From tiny caves peeped many a soot-black poll;In each a mother-martin sat elate, And of the news ...
I passed an inland-cliff precipitate; From tiny caves peeped many a soot-black poll;In each a mother-martin sat elate, And of the news ...
How oft on Sundays, when I'd time to tramp,My rambles led me to a gipsy's camp,Where the real effigy of ...
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