See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening... Eclectic Magazine, and Monthly Edition of the Living Age - Pagina 15 1847 Volledige weergave -
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