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Poetry

Ode on Indolence

     ‘They toil not, neither do they spin.’One morn before me were three figures seen,     With bowèd necks, and joinèd hands, side-faced;And one behind the other stepp’d serene,     In placid sandals, and in white robes graced;          They pass’d, like figures on a marble urn,     When shifted ro...
  • Approx. Reading Time: 2 minutes