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The Odes of Anacreon
Thomas Moore
The Odes of Anacreon
Thomas Moore
I often wish this languid lyre, This warbler of my soul's desire, Could raise the breath of song sublime, To men of fame in former time. But when the soaring theme I try, Along the chords my numbers die, And whisper, with dissolving tone, 'Our sighs are given to love alone!' Indignant at the feeble lay, I tore the panting chords away, Attuned them to a nobler swell, And struck again the breathing shell;
Media | Boeken Paperback Book (Boek met zachte kaft en gelijmde rug) |
Vrijgegeven | 3 november 2015 |
ISBN13 | 9781518737442 |
Uitgevers | Createspace Independent Publishing Platf |
Pagina's | 64 |
Afmetingen | 152 × 229 × 3 mm · 99 g |
Taal en grammatica | Engels |
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