“ Morosely a thin carriage horse gapes, And winds, meagre dogs, run a dreary race. Their skins squeak at the sharp corners. In a street groans a madman: You, oh, you – When I finally, my beloved, find thee . . . ”
“ Morosely a thin carriage horse gapes, And winds, meagre dogs, run a dreary race. Their skins squeak at the sharp corners. In a street groans a madman: You, oh, you – When I finally, my beloved, find thee . . . ”
