Notes
The primrose slips its jealous sheath,
Then open wide that churlish blind,
And kiss me through the ivy wreath!
The night is still, the moon looks kind.
~Edith Matilda Thomas
Related collections
The primrose slips its jealous sheath,
Then open wide that churlish blind,
And kiss me through the ivy wreath!
The night is still, the moon looks kind.
~Edith Matilda Thomas
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