I.

Near Wilton sweet, huge heaps of stones are found, But so confused, that neither any eye Can count them just, nor Reason reason try, What force brought them to so unlikely ground.

To stranger weights my minds waste soil is bound, Of passion-hills, reaching to Reasons sky, From Fancys earth, passing all numbers bound, Passing all guess, whence into me should fly So mazed a mass; or, if in me it grows, A simple soul should breed so mixed woes.

II.

The Bruertons have a lake, which, when the sun Approaching warms, not else, dead logs up sends From hideous depth; which tribute, when it ends, Sore sign it is the lords last thread is spun.

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新网页】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

使用【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开并收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通网络。

收藏网址：www.ziyungong.cc

(＞人＜；)