His Son

But twelve short years you lived, my son,
Just twelve short years, and then you died:
And now your life's brief course is run,
This grave a father's hopes doth hide.

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Monday, July 11, 2011 - 00:48

Poesia Consagrada :

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Callimachus

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Title: Membro
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Joined: 07/11/2011
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