Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan Repeating us by rote: For him her Old World moulds aside she threw And, choosing sweet clay from the breast Of the unexhausted West, With… — James Russell Lowell Copy Share Image
Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote. — James Russell Lowell Copy Share Image
