Friday, March 29, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

William Drummond

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My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.
--
To His Lute

 
William Drummond

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