Theirs is no vulgar sepulchre--green sodsAre all their monument, and yet it tellsA nobler history than pillared pilesOr the eternal pyramids.
Theirs is no vulgar sepulchre--green sods Are all their monument, and yet it tells A nobler history than pillared piles Or the eternal pyramids.
Or else flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half buried in the Eagle's down, Sole as a flying star, shot thro' the sky, Above the pillared town.
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