When shadows pass across the grass
And April breezes stir the sedge,
Along the brimming river's edge
I trail my line for silver trout,
And smoke, and dream of you, my lass,
And wonder why we two fell out,
And how the deuce it came about.
Between the Lines.
Literature
The 2010 CIA World Factbook
The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
The Motor Girls
The Moorland Cottage
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