Gone are the three, those sisters rare
With wonder-lips and eyes ashine.
One was wise and one was fair,
And one was mine.
Ye mourners, weave for the sleeping hair
Of only two, your ivy vine.
For one was wise and one was fair,
But one was mine.
About Infoplease, Part of Family Education Network
© 2000–2016 Sandbox Networks, Inc., publishing as Infoplease