Those ancients who in poetry presented the golden age, who sang its happy state, perhaps, in their Parnassus, dreamt this place. Here, mankind's root was innocent; and here were every fruit and never-ending spring; these streams - the nectar of which poets sing.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 70 | 2018-12-04 05:53:19 | 87.74 | 100% |