Morning among the Hills |
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Sonnet: 4 |
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O, had I the wings of a swallow, I'd fly |
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Consumption |
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To the Houstonia Cerulea |
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I looked on the broad setting sun |
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Beneath the pensive willow's shade |
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They gazed upon each other. They were young |
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The Flight of Time |
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Impreciation, An |
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