There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Poems by Mr. Gray - Page 147by Thomas Gray - 1768 - 187 pagesFull view - About this book
 | 王锦厚 - China - 1996 - 754 pages
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