As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard...
The Poetical Works - Стр. 56
авторы: Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1870 - Страниц: 246
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