Thomas Gray Quotes on Beauty
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The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
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O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
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Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.