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Quotes by Thomas Wm. Parsons
What shall we do now, Mary being dead, Or say, or write, that shall express the half? What can we do but pillow that fair head, And let the springtime write her epitaph?— filed under Death
Sorrow and the scarlet leaf, Sad thoughts and sunny weather; Ah me! this glory and this grief Agree not well together!— filed under Sows