THROUGH A GLASS LIGHTLY
laurel, and there is always a plenty of laurel bushes where Phyllis lives, but it takes a man to crown our wine. To fill our glass with Lachryma Christi may wring a sympathetic tear from a woman’s eye, but it was a master and not a mistress of arts, who, drinking liberally of this same wine, burst forth out of the abundance of his heart with the cry of
“Utinam Christus vellet flere in patria
nostra.”
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