An AcrosticOh, may it bring you rare delight! May it, as summers come and go, Yet dearer to your true heart grow. What tho it binds your life to mine___ Is not Love's vassalage divine? From its sweet bondage who 'd be free? E'en Freedom courts such slavery! __Frederick J. Atwood . |
Kansas Rhymes and Other Lyrics
Frederick J. Atwood
(Topeka, Kan.: Crane & Company. 1902)
Page 79
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