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Weary way wanderer languid and sick at heart

Weary way wanderer languid and sick at heart
Travelling painfully over the rugged road
Wild visag""d Wanderer! ah for thy heavy chance!

Sorely thy little one drags by thee bare footed
Cold is the baby that hangs at thy bending back
Meagre and livid and screaming its wretchedness.

Woe begone mother half anger half agony
As over thy shoulder thou lookest to hush the babe
Bleakly the blinding snow beats in thy hagged face.

Thy husband will never return from the war again
Cold is thy hopeless heart even as Charity
Cold are thy famish""d babes God help thee widow""d One!
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by:- admin posted in:- robert southey

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