Last Updated：2022/12/22
Sentence
'Tis
the
cruel
gripe,
/
That
lean
hard-handed
poverty
inflicts,
/
The
hope
of
better
things,
the
chance
to
win,
/
The
wiſh
to
ſhine,
the
thirſt
to
be
amus'd,
/
That
at
the
found
of
Winter's
hoary
wing,
/
Unpeople
all
our
counties,
of
ſuch
herds,
/
Of
flutt'ring,
loit'ring,
cringing,
begging,
looſe,
/
And
wanton
vagrants,
as
make
London,
vaſt
/
And
boundless
as
it
is,
a
crowded
coop.
Quizzes for review
'Tis the cruel gripe, / That lean hard-handed poverty inflicts, / The hope of better things, the chance to win, / The wiſh to ſhine, the thirſt to be amus'd, / That at the found of Winter's hoary wing, / Unpeople all our counties, of ſuch herds, / Of flutt'ring, loit'ring, cringing, begging, looſe, / And wanton vagrants, as make London, vaſt / And boundless as it is, a crowded coop.
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