The Child’s Grave (Edmund Blunden Poems)
I came to the churchyard where pretty Joy lies On a morning in April, a rare sunny ...
I came to the churchyard where pretty Joy lies On a morning in April, a rare sunny ...
Morning, if this late withered light can claimSome kindred with that merry flameWhich the young day was wont to fling ...
Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,I sit in solitude and only hearLong silent laughters, murmurings of dismay,The ...
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