In the morning's flame burns now. And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night On the hillside and the sea, Still lies where he laid his houseless head, — But the Pilgrim ! where is he ? The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest: When summer's throned on high,... Brittan's Journal: Spiritual Science, Literature, Art and Inspiration - Página 302 1873 Visualização integral -
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