Rubayi 173
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To-day how sweetly breathes the temperate air, The rains have newly laved the parched parterre; And Bulbuls cry in notes of ecstasy, "Thou too, O pallid rose, our wine must share! " 175. |
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To-day how sweetly breathes the temperate air, The rains have newly laved the parched parterre; And Bulbuls cry in notes of ecstasy, "Thou too, O pallid rose, our wine must share! " 175. |
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