The "more," as we called it, and the meaning of our "union"

time:2023-12-03 05:22:27edit:androidsource:qsj

To dream of dancing, but must hang and moan,


Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain!


And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain!


They have not known; they are not in the stream;

Light as the flying seed-ball is their play,

The silly maids! and happy souls they seem;

Yet Grief would not change fates with such as they.

They have not struck the roots which meet the fires

search keyword:zop