THE rose did caper on her cheek, Her bodice rose and fell, Her pretty speech, like drunken men, Did stagger pitiful. Her fingers fumbled at her work,– Her needle would not go; What ailed so smart a little maid It puzzled me to know, Till opposite I spied a cheek That bore another rose; Just […]

Logg inn for å lese videre (abonnenter).

Støtt uavhengige nyheter!

Bli abonnent

Pluss-artikler blir åpnet 24 timer etter publisering. Artikler som er eldre enn to år er forbeholdt abonnenter.