by Louisa May Alcott
Love comes to all soon or late,
And maketh gay or sad;
For every bird will find its mate,
And every lass a lad,
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Fragments from "The Mysterious Key And What It Opened"
Poems of the Day
Love comes to all soon or late,
And maketh gay or sad;
For every bird will find its mate,
And every lass a lad,