We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him... British melodies, extracts from the modern poets [signed J.H.R.]. - Página 28 por British melodies - 1820 Vista completa -
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