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Poem by Edith Nesbit The Whirligig of Time BEFORE your feet, My love, my sweet, Behold! your slave bows down; And in his hands From other lands Brings you another crown. For in far climes, In bygone times, Myself was royal too: Oh, I have been A king, my queen, Who am a slave for you! Edith Nesbit Edith Nesbit's other poems: 1215 Views |
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