Mundo de O, no puedo sostener thee bastante cercano! Vientos de Thy, cielos grises anchos thy! Nieblas de Thy, ese rodillo y subida! Maderas de Thy, este da del otoo, que duelen y ceden y todos sino grito con color! Ese crag gaunt a machacar! Para levantar la inclinacin de ese penasco negro! Mundo, mundo, no puedo conseguir a cierre del thee bastantes!
Largo tener I sabido una gloria en ella toda, pero nunca saba I esto; Aqu tal pasin est mientras que el stretcheth yo aparte, Seor, yo teme Thou'st hecho el mundo demasiado hermoso este ao; Mi alma es toda sino fuera de m, dejo' cada ninguna hoja ardiente; el prithee, no dej ningn pjaro llamar.
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