Along the Shore by Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
page 31 of 58 (53%)
page 31 of 58 (53%)
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DOROTHY. Dear little Dorothy, she is no more! I have wandered world-wide, from shore to shore, I have seen as great beauties as ever were wed; But none can console me for Dorothy dead. Dear little Dorothy! How strange it seems That her face is less real than the faces of dreams; That the love which kept true, and the lips which so spoke, Are more lost than my heart, which died not when it broke! MORNING SONG. Turn thy face to me, my love, I come from out the morning; Give thy hand to me, my love, I'm dewy from the dawning. Touch my lips with thine, my love, I've tasted air at daybreak; Gaze into my eyes, my love, |
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