Low on his fours the Lion Treads with the surly Bear; But Men straight upward from the dust Walk with their heads in the air; The free sweet winds of heaven, The sunlight from on high Beat on their clear bright cheeks and browns As they go striding by; The doors of all their houses They arch so they may go, Uplifted o’er the four-foot beasts, Unstooping, to and fro.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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