by learningtheflowers

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“Woods that wave o’er Delphi’s steep,
Isles that crown th’ Aegean deep,
Fields that cool Ilissus laves,
Or where Maeander’s amber waves,
In lingering lab’rinths creep,
How do your tuneful echoes languish,
Mute but to the voice of anguish?
Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breathed around:
Every shade and hallowed fountain
Murmured deep a solemn sound”

Gray, “The Progress of Poesy”

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