Aforetime (Thomas Sturge Moore Poems)
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,At work I muse to you aloud;Thought on my anvil softens, glows,And I forget our ...
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,At work I muse to you aloud;Thought on my anvil softens, glows,And I forget our ...
O idleness, too fond of me,Begone, I know and hate thee!Nothing canst thou of pleasure seeIn one that so doth ...
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