The Harp Of India (Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems)
Why hang'st thou lonely on yon withered bough?Unstrung for ever, must thou there remain;Thy music once was sweet — who ...
Why hang'st thou lonely on yon withered bough?Unstrung for ever, must thou there remain;Thy music once was sweet — who ...
My country! In thy days of glory pastA beauteous halo circled round thy browand worshipped as a deity thou wast-Where ...
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