Wandering late by morning seas When my heart with pain was low-- Hate the censor pelted me-- Deject I saw my shadow go. In elf-caprice of bitter tone I too would pelt the pelted one: At my shadow I cast a stone. When lo, upon that sun-lit ground I saw the quivering phantom take The likeness of St. Stephen crowned: Then did self-reverence awake.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
The script ran 0.002 seconds.
