介绍一分钟极速赛车信誉群

KNOW'ST thou the land where the fair citron blows,Where the bright orange midst the foliage glows,Where soft winds greet us from the azure skies,Where silent myrtles, stately laurels rise,Know'st thou it well?

Ah, who'll heal his afflictions,To whom balsam was poison,Who, from love's fullness,Drank in misanthropy only?First despised, and now a despiser,He, in secret, wastethAll that he is worth,In a selfishness vain.If there be, on thy psaltery,Father of Love, but one toneThat to his ear may be pleasing,Oh, then, quicken his heart!Clear his cloud-enveloped eyesOver the thousand fountainsClose by the thirsty oneIn the desert.