Sleep breathes at last from out thee, My little patient boy ; And balmy rest about thee Smooths off the day's annoy. I sit me down, and think Of all thy winning ways : Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink, That I had less to praise.
The Quarterly Review - Página 330
por William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, Sir William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero Baron Ernle, George Walter Prothero - 1818
Vista completa -