Floral Offering e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. You oftentimes can mark upon the street The gilded toy whom fashion idolizes Heartless and fickle, swelled with self-conceit, Avoiding alway what good sense advises. Who flutters like the butterfly while burns his sun Nor afterwards is missed when life is done. Clouds turn with every wind about They keep us in suspense and doubt' Yet oft perverse, like woman-kind, Are seen to scud against the wind.