He will not come, though I call all day—
Shut is the door.
I go, I leave him, I call no more;
I call no more, yet my heart is sore;
The loved one rejects me—
How cruel is he!
He leaves us for ever—
The wreath and T. T.
Observer.
(Mrs. Winsloe.)
He will not come, though I call all day—
Shut is the door.
I go, I leave him, I call no more;
I call no more, yet my heart is sore;
The loved one rejects me—
How cruel is he!
He leaves us for ever—
The wreath and T. T.
Observer.
(Mrs. Winsloe.)