In folds of golden fulness at my door ?
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
My cricket chirps against thy m九_九_藏_书_网andolin.
Most gracious singer of high poems ! where
The bats and owlets builders in the roof !
To
九九藏书 let thy music drop here unaware
IV
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of d九_九_藏_书_网esolation ! there s a voice within
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
That weeps . . . as thou must sing九_九_藏_书_网
. . . alone, aloof
Look up and see the casement broken in,
Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more.
And dost thou l九九藏书ift this houses latch too poor
Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,
For hand of thine ? and canst thou think and bear