The Living Lost (William Cullen Bryant Poem)
Matron! the children of whose love, Each to his grave, in youth have passed, And now the mould is heaped ...
Matron! the children of whose love, Each to his grave, in youth have passed, And now the mould is heaped ...
Love's worshippers alone can know The thousand mysteries that are his; His blazing torch, his twanging bow, His blooming age ...
The day had been a day of wind and storm;-- The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,-- And stooping ...
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