1722
Her face was in a bed of hair,
Like flowers in a plot—
Her hand was whiter than the *****
That feeds the sacred light.
Her tongue more tender than the tune
That totters in the leaves—
Who hears may be incredulous,
Who witnesses, believes.
4.6k
1722
Her face was in a bed of hair,
Like flowers in a plot—
Her hand was whiter than the *****
That feeds the sacred light.
Her tongue more tender than the tune
That totters in the leaves—
Who hears may be incredulous,
Who witnesses, believes.
1830 - 1886/Female/American