• Bret Harte And ever since then, when the clock strikes two, She walks unbidden from room to room, And the air is filled that she passes through With a subtle, sad perfume. The delicate odor of mignonette, The ghost of a dead and gone bouquet, Is all that tells of her story — yet Could she think of a sweeter way?
    Bret Harte
    American short story writer and poet
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Bret Harte - And ever since then, when the clock strikes two, She walks unbidden from room to room, And the air is filled that she passes through With a subtle, sad perfume. The delicate odor of mignonette, The ghost of a dead and gone bouquet, Is all that tells of her story — yet Could she think of a sweeter way?
And ever since then, when the clock strikes two, She walks unbidden from room to room, And the air is filled that she passes through With a subtle, sad perfume. The delicate odor of mignonette, The ghost of a dead and gone bouquet, Is all that tells of her story — yet Could she think of a sweeter way? by : Bret Harte

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mountains-with-lake And ever since then, when the clock strikes two, She walks unbidden from room to room, And the air is filled that she passes through With a subtle, sad perfume. The delicate odor of mignonette, The ghost of a dead and gone bouquet, Is all that tells of her story — yet Could she think of a sweeter way?
- Bret Harte Greatest-Quotations.com