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friendship poetry

wölbte die Flut
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
die alten Songs
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
einige windigere Tage
gelebt durch den River-side
Roses und Gold
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
wir legen
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
was ich Ihnen verdanken
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying

 



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