thin thy happy home those flowers abound. Might I annihilate the spaceThat intervenes twixt thee and me,Dear little one, how sweet twould be To clasp thee in a lingering embrace! I gaze upon the shadowy brow—I meet no glances from thine eyes,No baby laughs I hear, no cries ; Tis for thy mothers… … Fig. 2. Fig. 3.
Women · American literature · Costume · Arts
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