When the lamp went out by my bed I woke up with the early birds. I sat at my open window with a fresh wreath on my loose hair. The young traveller came along the road in the rosy mist of the morning. A pearl chain was on her neck and the suns rays fell on her crown. She stopped before my door and asked me with an eager cry . . .where is he? . . . . .For very shame I couldnt say He is I young traveller, He is I.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 13:13:38 +0000
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