 |
| الكتب | الكتب |
|
| الكتب | الكتب |
 And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...  Laura: Or, An Anthology of Sonnets, (on the Petrarcan Model,) and Elegiac ... - الصفحة cii 1814 عرض كامل -
|
