介绍飞艇七码永久公式

And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last.

Her shop the mischief made.

Ah, who'll heal his afflictions,To whom balsam was poison,Who, from love's fullness,Drank in misanthropy only?First despised, and now a despiser,He, in secret, wastethAll that he is worth,In a selfishness vain.If there be, on thy psaltery,Father of Love, but one toneThat to his ear may be pleasing,Oh, then, quicken his heart!Clear his cloud-enveloped eyesOver the thousand fountainsClose by the thirsty oneIn the desert.