Sonnet V (Brooke Boothby Poems)
Death! Thy cold hand the brightest flower has chill'd, That e'er suffused love's cheek with rosy dies; Quench'd the soft ...
Death! Thy cold hand the brightest flower has chill'd, That e'er suffused love's cheek with rosy dies; Quench'd the soft ...
Dear Mansergh! Of the few this breast who share, And share in pitying sympathy its woe, You best my vast ...
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