mid the cheerless hours of night, A mother wandered with her child. As through the drifted snows she pressed, The babe was sleeping on her breast. And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifts of snow... Miscellanies Selected from the Public Journals - Página 61 por Joseph Tinker Buckingham - 1824 Vista completa -
|