Howe'er each hide the flying weapons blunts. All-Father Folly! be it mine to raise, With lusty lung, here on his western strand With all thine offspring thronged from every land, Thyself inspiring me, the song of praise. And if too weak, I'll hire, to help me bawl, Dick Watson Gilder, gravest of us all.
Endroit: ¶531 Licence: Public domain · Source Le texte est donné tel que dans l'édition, sans retouche.