And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass... The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimage - الصفحة 20 بواسطة George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1821 عرض كامل -
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