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A poem by R. D. Blackmore |
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The Well Of Saint John |
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Title: The Well Of Saint John Author: R. D. Blackmore [More Titles by Blackmore] The old well of Saint John, in the parish of Newton-Nottage, Glamorganshire, has a tide of its own, which appears to run exactly counter to that of the sea, some half-mile away. The water is beautifully bright and fresh, and the quaint dome among the lonely sands is regarded with some awe and reverence. "THERE is plenty of room for two in here, She "It is perfectly safe, depend upon it, He "There is nobody but Rees Hopkin's cow She "Oh, Willie, how can I, in this dark well? He "Tis the sound of the ebb, in Newton Bay, She "There is no other way for love to flow, He "Then fill the sweet cup of your hand, my love, She "Oh, what shall I say? My heart sinks low; * * * * * They stooped, in the gleam of the faint light, over But the warm heart rose, and the cold hand fell, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |