For The Sister’s Album (John Kenyon Poems)
Soft lays, that dwell on lips and eyes. Long since with me have had their day; At fifty, hearts grow cold or ...
Soft lays, that dwell on lips and eyes. Long since with me have had their day; At fifty, hearts grow cold or ...
NEAR THE LAKE OF THRASYMENE. We win, where least we care to strive; And where the most we strive-we miss. Old Hannibal, if ...
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