The Flying Islands of the Night, Volume 6

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Bobbs-Merrill, 1900 - American poetry - 205 pages

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Page 122 - Because her face was fair; perhaps because Her eyes were blue and wore a weary air;— Perhaps . . . perhaps because her limpid face Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein The dimples found no place to anchor and Abide: perhaps because her tresses beat A froth of gold about her throat, and poured In splendor to the feet that ever seemed Afloat. Perhaps because of that wild way Her sudden laughter overleapt propriety; Or—who will say?—perhaps the way she wept.
Page 139 - THE Crankadox leaned o'er the edge of the moon And wistfully gazed on the sea Where the Gryxabodill madly whistled a tune To the air of "Ti-fol-de-ding-dee." The quavering shriek of the Fly-up-the-creek "Was fitfully wafted afar To the Queen of the Wunks as she powdered her cheek With the pulverized rays of a star. The Gool closed his ear on the voice of the Grig, And his heart...

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