Of ocean was my grave:
I then sang airs that in the cell
Of hoarding memory long had slept,
And with a look tongue cannot tell
She clasped my neck and wept.
SONNET.—THE COMET.
———
BY WM. ALEXANDER.
———
Of ocean was my grave:
I then sang airs that in the cell
Of hoarding memory long had slept,
And with a look tongue cannot tell
She clasped my neck and wept.
———
BY WM. ALEXANDER.
———