Far far from here I'm longing for a place,
Coveting to get it by god's grace,
Having the new aura being muffled,
The beauty residing will make me baffled! ...
When a bar of pure silver or ingot of gold
Is sent to be flatted or wrought into length,
It is pass'd between cylinders often, and roll'd
In an engine of utmost mechanical strength.
Thus tortured and squeezed, at last it appears
Like a loose heap of ribbon, a glittering show,
Like music it tinkles and rings in your ears,
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