I really want to sing in the school choir, said Vera.
I really want to sing in the school choir,
So thus disguised, my poor page and I / Fled fast to Smyrna; where in a dark cave / We meant t'await th'arrival of some ship / That might transfreight us safely unto Rhodes.
Like distant thunder on a shiny day.
After the first grief, or rather fright, of Mr. Arundel's death, and when broad hems and deep crape-falls had been sufficiently discussed to have induced an uninitiated person to believe that people really died to oblige others to wear bombasin;...
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