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The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
img img The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning img Chapter 19 No.19
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Chapter 19 No.19

Thy lady did not heed

The withering on the bough;

Still calm her smile albeit the while

A little pale her brow:

"I have a father old,

The lord of ancient halls;

An hundred friends are in his court

Yet only me he calls.

Margret, Margret.

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