 |
| Books | Bücher |
|
| Books | Bücher |
 Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old, rude song that suited well That ruin wild...  Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Seite 2 1820 Vollansicht -
|
