THE WISH.
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WELL, then; I now do plainly see, This busie World and I shall ne’er agree; The very Honey of all Earthly Joy Does of all Meats the soonest cloy. And they (methinks) deserve my Pity Who for it can endure the Stings, The Croud, and Buz, and Murmurings Of this great Hive, the City. |