The Offer
Take thou my songs, O constant Friend of Friends!
They are bubbles of my stream of years, —
They are the blossoms of my richest field.
Through them I rove where fair Walloomsac bends,
And see deep, dove-like eyes, all smiles and tears,
Reflected in my heart as in a shield.
They are bubbles of my stream of years, —
They are the blossoms of my richest field.
Through them I rove where fair Walloomsac bends,
And see deep, dove-like eyes, all smiles and tears,
Reflected in my heart as in a shield.
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