I thought it was a nightingale, but why should I be disappointed if all that forlorn threnody was only a robin, afraid the night might never end.
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I thought it was a nightingale, but why should I be disappointed if all that forlorn threnody was only a robin, afraid the night might never end.
Comments are closed.
Words by Jackie Morris
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O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool\’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene
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