On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. Poetry: selected for the use of schools and families by A. Bowman - Strana 37 autor/autoři: Anne Bowman - 1856 - 292 str. Úplné zobrazení -
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