Men call you “dark.” What factory then blurred the light Of golden suns, when nothing blacker than the shades Of coming rain climbed up the heather-mantled height? While the air Breathed all the scents of all untrodden flowers, And brooks poured silver through the glimmering glades, Then sweetly wound through virgin ground. Must all that beauty pass? And must our pleasure trains
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Language English ● Format EPUB ● ISBN 9786050411423 ● File size 0.8 MB ● Publisher L. ● Published 2015 ● Downloadable 24 months ● Currency EUR ● ID 5108942 ● Copy protection Social DRM