Rome: The Vatican-Sala Delle Muse. (Thomas Hardy Poem)
I sat in the Muses' Hall at the mid of the day, And it seemed to grow still, and the ...
I sat in the Muses' Hall at the mid of the day, And it seemed to grow still, and the ...
I He bends his travel-tarnished feet To where she wastes in clay: From day-dawn until eve he fares Along the ...
Where once we danced, where once we sang, Gentlemen, The floors are sunken, cobwebs hang, And cracks creep; worms have ...
To Jenny came a gentle youth From inland leazes lone; His love was fresh as apple-blooth By Parrett, Yeo, or ...
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