I sate down beneath the beech
Which leans over to the lane,
And the far sound of your speech
Did not promise any pain;
And I blessed you full and free,
With a smile stooped tenderly
O'er the May-flowers on my knee.
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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