Explore "My Playmate" by John Greenleaf Whittier on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE pines were dark on Ramoth hill, Their song was soft and low; The blossoms in the sweet May wind Were falling like the snow.
The blossoms drifted at our feet, The orchard birds sang clear; The sweetest and the saddest day It seemed of all the year.