 With the swift pilgrim's daubed nest; The groves already did rejoice, In Philomel's triumphing voice, The showers were short, the weather mild, The morning fresh, the evening smiled. Joan takes her neat-rubbed pail, and now She trips to milk the sand-red...  Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Side 4611823Fuld visning - Om denne bog
 | 1899 - 868 sider
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 | J. Hannah - 1999 - 295 sider
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 | Various - 2008 - 336 sider
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