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The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
img img The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning img Chapter 125 No.125
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Chapter 125 No.125

Her mother sat silent-too tender, I wis,

Of the smile her dead father smiled dying to kiss:

But the boy started up pale with tears, passion-wrought-

"O wicked fair sister, the hills utter nought!

If he cometh, who told thee?"

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