The Little House (Fay Inchfawn Poems)
One yestereve, in the waning light,When the wind was still and the gloaming bright,There came a breath from ...
One yestereve, in the waning light,When the wind was still and the gloaming bright,There came a breath from ...
There's a rustle in the woodlands, and a sighing in the breeze,For the Little Folk are busy in the ...
In her last hour of life the treeGave up her glorious memories,Wild scent of wood anemone,The sapphire blue of April ...
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