Alas My LordWhy this summer night as a hapless taleMaiden so gracious;shall she beAs a trickled tear from thy cheekYonder the wave of the night breezemelancholy stars;like no smilesthee summer night as tends to the catastropheAs pages of the summer speakAs a translator to be prejudicedLet thy summer night be persuadedInformedthy soul not to be indulgedHath taken possession of soulLately thee hath lost thee sleepThou praying hard not counting the starsSwing thy heart across thee Summer NightAs the night like a swinging vineAye prithee, mores of amour answer me honestly...
ThriftBooks sells millions of used books at the lowest
everyday prices. We personally assess every book's quality and offer rare, out-of-print treasures. We
deliver the joy of reading in recyclable packaging with free standard shipping on US orders over $15.
ThriftBooks.com. Read more. Spend less.