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A poem by Adelaide Anne Procter |
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Murmurs |
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Title: Murmurs Author: Adelaide Anne Procter [More Titles by Procter] Why wilt thou make bright music Why turn each cool grey shadow The voices of happy nature, Listen, and I will tell thee An echo rings for ever, Not alone did angels sing it Above thy peevish wailing No creature of God's too lowly So leave thy sick heart's fancies, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |