When I lived again,
The day was breaking,-the grey plain
I rose from, silvered thick with dew.
Was this a vision? False or true?
411 Since then, three varied years are spent,
And commonly my mind is bent
To think it was a dream-be sure
A mere dream and distemperature-
The last day's watching: then the night,-
The shock of
COPYRIGHT(©) 2022
