Explore "The Fortunes of Oliver Horn" by Francis Hopkinson Smith on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The bruised crocuses never again lifted their heads in Kennedy Square.
With the settling of the shadow -- a shadow black with hate -- men forgot the perfume of flowers, the rest and cool of shady nooks, the kindling touch of warm hands, and stood apart with eyes askance; women shuddered and grew pale, and sad-faced children peered out through closed blinds.