I love the silver tracery of the moon, The sunshine painting golden gems at noon, I love the sighing wind, the zephyr soft, , The wee soft cloudlets scurrying by aloft. I love to feel the wondrous glow of health, And if a cold should - came to me by stealth, I never let the miscreant foe mature, But fight him fair with Wood’s Great Peppermint Cure. —Advt.
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Bibliographic details
Ashburton Guardian, Volume 53, Issue 255, 9 August 1933, Page 2
Word Count
66Page 2 Advertisements Column 2 Ashburton Guardian, Volume 53, Issue 255, 9 August 1933, Page 2
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