Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,— In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs,— All these in me no means can...
The British Plutarch: Containing the Lives of the Most Eminent Divines ... - Page 398
by Francis Wrangham - 1816
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