G.K.

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OLD POETS.

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CHILDREN.

Riches of children pass a prince's throne
Which touch the father's heart with secret joy,
When without shame he saith, "These be mine own."

SIR P. SIDNEY

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FAME.


Then came they to the foul and loathsome lake.
Dark, deep, and miry, of a dreadful hue,
Where was the aged man that never stinted
To carry bundles of the names imprinted.