Whither
Whither leads this pathway, little one? —
It runs just on and on, is never done.
Whither leads this pathway, mistress fair? —
That path to town, sir; to the village square.
Whither leads this pathway, father old? —
To the white quiet of the churchyard fold.
It runs just on and on, is never done.
Whither leads this pathway, mistress fair? —
That path to town, sir; to the village square.
Whither leads this pathway, father old? —
To the white quiet of the churchyard fold.
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