The Song of the Little Hunter (Rudyard Kipling Poem)
Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, Through ...
Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, Through ...
One moment past our bodies cast No shadow on the plain; Now clear and black they stride our track, And ...
Imprimis he was "broke." Thereafter left His Regiment and, later, took to drink; Then, having lost the balance of his ...
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