4 ordspråk av William Johnson Cory
William Johnson Cory
All beauteous things for which we live
By laws of time and space decay.
But oh, the very reason why
I clasp them, is because they die.
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Jolly boating weather, / And a hay harvest breeze, / Blade on the feather, / Shade off the trees.
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They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, / They brought me bitter news to hear, and bitter tears to shed.
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Your chilly stars I can forgo,
This warm kind world is all I know.
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