To a Friend Without a Name Through lazy summer afternoons I wreathed slow thought to unsung tunes. And you some winter evening may Take up my finished book and say 'This molten thought was his who wrought No less the thoughts of other men - ' Or, closing, curse too feeble verse, The penned, the penman, and the pen. No matter what you think or do This book is yours and made for you Take it and read it through. CKSM 1906
Publisher: Scotland Street Press
Number of pages: 224
Dimensions: 198 x 129 mm
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