The Garden of Proserpine part five - Algernon Charles Swinburne

This quote ble lagt til av eli6093
Pale, without name or number, In fruitless fields of corn, They bow themselves and slumber All night till light is born; And like a soul belated, In hell and heaven unmated, By cloud and mist abated Comes out of darkness morn.

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umvard 12 år, 9 måneder siden
This is why you shouldn't try to put stanzas in with spaces. :(

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