Maxioms by Jean Ingelow
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting read more
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
"O fateful flower beside the rill--
The Daffodil, the daffodil!"
"O fateful flower beside the rill--
The Daffodil, the daffodil!"
