Lines in the Sand, by Christine Ann Clatworthy
For my sixth birthday
I wanted a doll; instead...
For my sixth birthday
I wanted a doll; instead...
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle...
High beats the hunter's heart when all the nigh...
For days the hunter over open plains
Fring'd b...
Here comes the beast that lays the golden egg, ...