The Shepherd’s Week : Thursday; or, The Spell (John Gay Poems)
Hobnelia.Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale,In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale,Her piteous tale the wind in sighs bemoan,And pining ...
Hobnelia.Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale,In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale,Her piteous tale the wind in sighs bemoan,And pining ...
BURYING friends is not a pomp,Not, indeed, Roman:Lacking the monument,Heroic stone;Nor is it an obscuring parasol,The pad of customary gloves ...
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of themorning:The moon, dwindled and ...
IS it not strange that Lord MolassesShould dare to preach to soldiers' wives,And seek to rob the working-classesOf both their ...
Nothing substance utters or time stills and restrains joins design and supple measure deftly as thought's intricate polyphonic score dovetails ...
I'm sick to death of money, of the lack of it, that is,And of practising perpetually small economies;Of paring off ...
As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of a comely Maid last season worshipped dumbly, watched with ...
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning: The moon, ...
In seventeen hundred, a much hated sultan visited us twice, finally dying of headaches in the south harbor. Ever since, ...
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