THE SUN. THE SOARING LARK. She gat her to her daily task, As on the former morn;Alack! she spied not Benjamin A-hoeing of the corn. [Enter Mary Jane. No longer, as she trips along, Her merry songs she sings;The tear-drops dim her pretty eyes, Her lily hands she wrings. V *— And art thou gone, sweet…
Children's plays · Amusements
Internet Archive · New York Public Library · Public Domain Mark 1.0. Free to use for anything.
