The Old Flute (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
The time will come when I no more can playThis polished flute: the stops will not obeyMy gnarled fingers; and ...
The time will come when I no more can playThis polished flute: the stops will not obeyMy gnarled fingers; and ...
O wonderful! How liquid clear The molten gold of that ethereal tone, Floating and falling through the wood alone, A ...
I PRELUDE Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight, She knew her ...
For that thy face is fair I love thee not; Nor yet because the light of thy brown eyes Hath ...
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