The Blue Poetry Book

is merry, in g

ds have still'

blaze doth

d is fagot

rts, that hi

rd Richar

oss'd and bl

ign,' quoth t

de with blo

spoke she,

an void

e's blood up

the blood

ou liest, tho

es unto

thine own k

of Ether

stepp'd she

the hol

's blood on R

ss hand

jure thee,

hom Demo

whence thou

thine err