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Анекдоты, стихи, загадки, поговорки, считалки
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HOLY THURSDAY by William Blake Is this a holy thing to see, In a rich and fruitful land, Babes redued to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy? And so many children poor? It is a land of poverty! And their sun does never shine. And their fields are bleak & bare, And their ways are fili'd with thorns It is eternal winter there. For where-e'er the sun does shine, And where-e'er the rain does fall: Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.
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Категория: Стихи |
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| Теги: стихи на английском языке, стихи, элитные проститутки санкт петербург, стихи любви на английском языке, Английский язык стихи, английские стихи
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