In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like an April morn, Clad in a wintry cloud; And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shroud. So shall the fairest face appear, When youth and years are flown : Such...
Poemata Latine partim reddita, partim scripta - Page 22
by Vincent Bourne - 1808 - 286 pages
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