‘It must be painful. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more.
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