Lady Jane Wilde

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Thursday, August 2, 2012

The Voice Of The Poor Comments

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Was sorrow ever like to our sorrow?
Oh, God above!
Will our night never change into a morrow
Of joy and love?
A deadly gloom goom is on us waking, sleeping,
Like the darkness at noontide,
That fell upon the pallid mother, weeping
By the Crucified.
...
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Lady Jane Wilde

waking barriers fever

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Lady Jane Wilde

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