This has been a very fine day. I commenced to cut Buckwheat to day. R. Scott was up to Tuttles this forenoon. Gills went down by to night. I have been writeing and reading to night. Thair was sombody here to night. Brushland.
Forget The.
Oh tell me not I shat forget
And cease of thee to dream;
This world would be all loneliness
Nor life as life would seem.
Forget thee. When the ocean wave.
Shall wake from sleep no more,
Nor speed before the fleeting winds.
To beat the rock-bound shore.
Forget The.
Oh tell me not I shat forget
And cease of thee to dream;
This world would be all loneliness
Nor life as life would seem.
Forget thee. When the ocean wave.
Shall wake from sleep no more,
Nor speed before the fleeting winds.
To beat the rock-bound shore.
No comments:
Post a Comment