ThursdayNov 21, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well.
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