When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
John DrydenShe, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty, Grows cold even in the summer of her age.
John DrydenWhen he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
John DrydenShe, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty, Grows cold even in the summer of her age.
John Dryden