The Three Pilgrims (Archibald Lampman Poems)
In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing,And hearts were weary and nigh to break,A sweet grave man ...
In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing,And hearts were weary and nigh to break,A sweet grave man ...
Out of the heart of the city begottenOf the labour of men and their manifold hands,Whose souls, that were sprung ...
Why weep ye in your innocent toil at all?Sweet little hands, why halt and tremble so?Full many a wrong note ...
By silent forest and field and mossy stone,We come from the wooden hill, and we go to the sea.We labour, ...
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