Poorpeoplestaying intheir houses aslong astill thevery fire touched them, and then running into boats or clambering from one pair of stair by the waterside to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons I perceive were loath to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconies till they were some of them burned, their wings, and fell down.
The gold-barr'd butterflies to and fro And over the waterside wander'd and wove As heedless and idle as clouds that rove And drift by the peaks of perpetual snow.joaquin miller
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