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SPEAK NO ILL OF POETRY. 237
While there a willing spirit went
Home to a glorious sphere; Yet still it sigh'd, even when was spread
The waiting angel's wing, " O, speak no ill of poetry,
For 'tis a holy thing."
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SPEAK NO ILL OF POETRY. 237
While there a willing spirit went
Home to a glorious sphere; Yet still it sigh'd, even when was spread
The waiting angel's wing, " O, speak no ill of poetry,
For 'tis a holy thing."
�� �