But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. It simply doesn’t count. Its parents have perished.
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