Attributed to “A. W.”
How Cupid Made a Nymph Wound Herself with His Arrow

IT chanced of late a shepherd’s swain,
That went to seek a strayed sheep,
Within a thicket on the plain,
Espied a dainty Nymph asleep.

Her golden hair o’erspread her face,...

Poet: Anonymous


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Do what you will this Life’s a fiction,[3]

And is made up [o]...

Poet:

Peace is a fiction of our Faith —

The Bells a Winter Night

Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound

That never did alight.

Poet: