A Hidden Life and Other Poems by George MacDonald
page 69 of 339 (20%)
page 69 of 339 (20%)
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Round the breast,
Tosses sabres all red; But under, Its thunder Is dumb to the dead. "They drop From the top To the sear heap below; And deeper, Down steeper, The infidels go. "But bright Is the light On the true-hearted breaking; Rapturous faces, Bent for embraces, Wait on his waking. "And he hears In his ears The voice of the river, Like a maiden, Love-laden, Go wandering ever. "Oh! the wine Of the vine May lead to the gates; |
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