Oh, loving mother ! tender wife, Whose hand upholds the wine-cup red, * Yet seest no cause for future dread, Know this — that wine with woe is rife ! He drank and fell, and thou dost blame ; Hath not the cup the selfsame sting? When thou thy stone at...
The brooklet reciter: for temperance societies and bands of hope - Page 93
by Harriet A. Glazebrook - 1883 - 176 pages
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