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 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
40
[Though I be now a grey, grey friar]
Though I be now a grey, grey friar,Yet I was once a hale young knight:
The cry of my dogs was the only choir
In which my spirit did take delight.
Little I recked of matin bell,
But drowned its toll with my clanging horn:
And the only beads I loved to tell
Were the beads of dew on the spangled thorn.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |