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 island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse.
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