I wish not to lie here. There`s hardly a plot of earth not blessed for burial, but here One might dream badly. In beautiful seas a beautiful And sainted island, but the dark earth so shallow on the rock Gorged with bad meat. Kings buried in the lee of the saint, Kings of fierce Norway, blood-boltered Scotland, bitterly dreaming Treacherous Ireland. Imagine what delusions of grandeur, What suspicion-agonized eyes, what jellies of arrogance and terror This earth has absorbed.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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