介绍3串1推荐

For, as my book grows apace, all of my sequins I lose.-----Is' thou'rt in earnest, no longer delay, but render me happy;Art thou in jest? Ah, sweet love! time for all jesting is past.-----ART thou, then, vex'd at my silence? What shall I speak of? Thou markest

When on one field we quaff'd refreshing dew,And, when the day's unwelcome toils were o'er,

One amongst the band betimes