New Country (Mary Hannay Foott Poems)
Conde had come with us all the way —Eight hundred miles — but the fortnight's restMade him fresh as a ...
Conde had come with us all the way —Eight hundred miles — but the fortnight's restMade him fresh as a ...
O steep and rugged Life, whose harsh ascentSlopes blindly upward through the bitter night!They say that on thy summit, high ...
The grass shall never forget this grave. When homeward footing it in the sun After the weary ride by rail, ...
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