Nocona, but it by no means follows that the son of a chief
2023-12-06 01:53:55source：Not caught Ermao net Classification：data
The broken sunset lights the bowers;
And then the woods are full with hints
Of distant, dear, voluptuous flowers!
'Tis often now the pilgrim turns
A faded face towards that seat,
And cools his brow amongst the ferns:
The runnel dabbling at his feet.
There fierce December seldom goes,