The Supplanter: A Tale (Thomas Hardy Poem)
I He bends his travel-tarnished feet To where she wastes in clay: From day-dawn until eve he fares Along the ...
I He bends his travel-tarnished feet To where she wastes in clay: From day-dawn until eve he fares Along the ...
They hail me as one living, But don't they know That I have died of late years, Untombed although? I ...
"Ah, are you digging on my grave, My loved one? -- planting rue?" -- "No: yesterday he went to wed ...
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