The Quails (Francis Brett Young Poems)
(In the south of Italy the peasants put out the eyes of a captured quailso that its cries may attract ...
(In the south of Italy the peasants put out the eyes of a captured quailso that its cries may attract ...
Out of that high pavilionWhere the sick, wind-harassed sunIn the whiteness of the dayGhostly shone and stole away--Parched with the ...
Before my window, in days of winter hoarHuddled a mournful wood:Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore,In stony sleep they ...
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