This was a woman young and passionate, Loving the Earth, and loving mot to be Where she might be alone with liberty; Loving the beasts, who are compassionate; The homeless moors, her home; the bright elate Winds of the cold dawn; rock and stone and tree; Night, bringing dreams out of eternity; And memory of Death`s unforgetting date. She too was unforgetting; has she yet Forgotten that long agony when her breath Too fierce for living fanned the flame of death? Earth for her heather, does she now forget What pity knew not in her love from scorn, And that it was an unjust thing to be born?SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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