Category: Poetry
Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town, An’ wander the old ways again an’ tread them up an’ down. I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass, Without I mind how good ye were unto a little lass. I never hear the winter rain a-pelting all night...
Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town, An’ wander the old ways again an’ tread them up an’ down. I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass, W...
2. PART II“Oh, how high is Caesar’s house, Brother, big brother?” “Goats about the doorways browse: Night hawks nest in the burnt roof-tree, Home of the wild bird and home of the bee. A t...