A Sheaf From the Moorland a Span Classsearchtermspan Classsearchtermc

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A Sheaf From the Moorland a Span Classsearchtermspan Classsearchtermc
Hartley John
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WINTER S COME. 147 And there did we vow we would never be parted ; And I wreathed her a chaplet of wild flowers gay ; Now I brood o'er the time when almost broken hearted, I found that the angels had borne her away.
'Tis sinful repining, when Norah is shining, But my heart has a void which the world cannot fill ; And I still keep on dreaming her bright eyes are beaming With fond looks of love for the lonely one still. And though midst the thoughtless and gay ones I wander, My heart will be true
... to its cherished first love ; And I ever midst bustle or solitude ponder, On my sweet little Norah, who's watching above.
f inter's Come, /T\HE sun looks sickly wan and pale, -*- The wind goes moaning by, The mountain's mist drifts through the vale, Thick clouds obscure the sky ; The song bird twitters on the bough, That leafless rocks it to and fro, For Winter's come.
The cattle 'neath the hedges cower, Their looks impressed with woe, And greet the mists that round them lower With a despairing low ; 148 winter's come.


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