FAREWELL
Tread lightly, she is near, Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen.to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Peace, peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my heart's buried here, Heap carth upon tt.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19280203.2.35.2
Bibliographic details
Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 29, 3 February 1928, Page 14
Word Count
65FAREWELL Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 29, 3 February 1928, Page 14
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