The Wanderer (Christopher Brennan Poems)
When window-lamps had dwindled, then I roseand left the town behind me; and on my waypassing a certain door I ...
When window-lamps had dwindled, then I roseand left the town behind me; and on my waypassing a certain door I ...
Four springtimes lost: and in the fifth we stand, here in this quiet hour of glory, still, while o'er the ...
I sorrow for youth - ah, not for its wildness (would that were dead!) but for those soft nests of ...
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