Читать книгу The Golden Treasury - Various - Страница 71

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My thoughts hold mortal strife;

I do detest my life,

And with lamenting cries

Peace to my soul to bring

Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize:

—But he, grim grinning King,

Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprize,

Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,

Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

W. Drummond