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“I drank a bitter cup of ale, a cupful of fancy, and thoughts slide beyond the mountain rill; clasping every fairness to the quill, the scent of flowers, the musical choir of birds, o’ air! the Divine here! for a poet’s joy to sigh!” — Nithin Purple
I drank a bitter cup of ale, a cupful of fancy, and thoughts slide beyond the mountain rill; clasping every fairness to the quill, the scent of flowers, the musical choir of birds, o’ air! the Divine here! for a poet’s joy to sigh!