epitaph on a lap-dog
    named echo
    in wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
    your heavy loss deplore;
    now, half extinct your powers of song,
    sweet echo is no more.
    ye jarring, screeching things around,
    scream your discordant joys;
    now, half your din of tuneless sound
    with echo silent lies.

章节目录


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