At EveningIs flecked with purple and grey; A whip-poor-will calls his sweet farewell To a lovely golden day; The melody rises and falls As it throbs thru my dusky room, That is cool and sweet with the odour of pinks From out the garden's gloom. __Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos |
Dear Things And Queer Things
Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos
(Lawrence: The World Company. 1934)
Page 34
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