Everybody talking of you. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ” Sir John was speechless. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. "He ought to do, seeing that he served his apprenticeship in it to Mr.
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