Hill, where the waggoners skid, With cheeks whose airy flush outbid Fresh fruit in bloom, and free of fear, She cantered down, as if she must fall (Though she never did), To the charm of all. Satires of Circumstance: Lyrics and Reveries; with Miscellaneous Pieces - Pagina 122 di Thomas Hardy - 1914 - 230 pagine Visualizzazione completa -
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