Ode To Pity By Jane Austen

Ever musing I delight to tread The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed On disappointed Love. While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush Sings sweet and Melancholy, And the thrush Converses with … Continue reading →
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Published on January 05, 2016 10:27
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Annette J. Dunlea's Blog

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