The Painter Of Florence (Ernest Jones Poems)
THERE'S a mansion old 'mid the hills of the west,So old, that men know not by whom it was built;But ...
THERE'S a mansion old 'mid the hills of the west,So old, that men know not by whom it was built;But ...
Spring is come, and shades departLighter beats each human heart;Ghost-like snow-is fleeting slow,And the green spring-grasses grow.Streams, that long have ...
THE midnight hour is passing-the sunrise is at handThe watchers on the mountain tops are looking o'er the land,The world ...
From my cell, I look back on the world-from my cell, And think I ...
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