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OtiliaReed
OtiliaReed
Stories
When the winds are breathing low
Oh lift me from the grass! I die! I faint! I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast;— Oh! press it to thine own again, Where it will break at last.
11/18/18
10.0
3 Votes