Tardy George (George Henry Boker Poems)
What are you waiting for, George, I pray? —To scour your cross-belts with fresh pipe-clay?To burnish your buttons, to brighten ...
What are you waiting for, George, I pray? —To scour your cross-belts with fresh pipe-clay?To burnish your buttons, to brighten ...
When I review the long procession gone Out of this being through the gates of death-- The parents, friends, the ...
If this be sorrow, I have never known The faintest touch of human grief till now-- That utter woe, o'erbrooding ...
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