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Слушать(AI)Stars
How countlessly they congregateO'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as
When wintry winds do blow!—As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps
To white rest, and a place of
Invisible at dawn,—And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some
Minerva's snow-white marble
Without the gift of sight.
Robert Frost
Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published i
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