346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise— What if the Bird from journey far— Confused by Sweets—as Mortals—are— Forget the secret of His wing And perish—but a Bough between— Oh, Groping feet— Oh Phantom Queen!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
