 The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?  The Guardian - 第45页1859全本阅读 - 图书信息
 | 1948 - 556 页
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