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I'm sick of the parade of schools,
And what your big-wigs call
Unerring guides – unvarying rules
I find no rules at all –
And so I'll have their preachings dull
own I now incline
Because my glass as bright & full
To moraline with wine.
I've seen full many a learned Clerk
Who preached of shame & sin
The groper in the dark
He took his bottle in
And then wh his sermon lighted beamed with sense
His strains appeared divine –
For this is wisdom's eloquence
To moraline with wine.
Identifier: | JB/110/199/001 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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199 |
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001 |
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collectanea |
1 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
[[watermarks::[partial motif]]] |
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36189 |
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