Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around... Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of ... - Página 292 editado por - 1879 Vista completa -
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