Poems, 第 2 巻E. Moxon, 1851 |
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... not know thee when thou wast the page Of the young Lady Science , ere the touch Unfelt of years had worn thy youth away ; I cannot trace thee to thy youthful day . XXIII . TO JOANNA BAILLIE . LONG ere my pulse 24 SONNETS .
... not know thee when thou wast the page Of the young Lady Science , ere the touch Unfelt of years had worn thy youth away ; I cannot trace thee to thy youthful day . XXIII . TO JOANNA BAILLIE . LONG ere my pulse 24 SONNETS .
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... young , and still art young to me , Though fifty summers faded since we met ; Thy timid glance I cannot cease to see , Thy bird - like voice to me is piping yet . If Time turn back to say that thou art old , I'll swear he lies , and ...
... young , and still art young to me , Though fifty summers faded since we met ; Thy timid glance I cannot cease to see , Thy bird - like voice to me is piping yet . If Time turn back to say that thou art old , I'll swear he lies , and ...
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... young , And the gay mosses of the Christmas days To the fresh primrose must forego their praise : Now every flower by vernal poets sung , And every bird the [ bursting ] woods among , And all the many - dappled banks and braes , Recal ...
... young , And the gay mosses of the Christmas days To the fresh primrose must forego their praise : Now every flower by vernal poets sung , And every bird the [ bursting ] woods among , And all the many - dappled banks and braes , Recal ...
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... young lamb bleats , Whose coat of March is washed with April rain . But since no Philomel can here complain , Let , lady , one poor bard lament to thee The murderous death of many a noble tree , That wont to shade thee in the grassy ...
... young lamb bleats , Whose coat of March is washed with April rain . But since no Philomel can here complain , Let , lady , one poor bard lament to thee The murderous death of many a noble tree , That wont to shade thee in the grassy ...
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... young memory perish quite . I am a waning star , and nigh to set ; Thou art a morning beam of waxing light ; But sure the morning star can ne'er regret That once ' twas grey - haired evening's favourite . XLVII . HOPE . HOPE , I have ...
... young memory perish quite . I am a waning star , and nigh to set ; Thou art a morning beam of waxing light ; But sure the morning star can ne'er regret That once ' twas grey - haired evening's favourite . XLVII . HOPE . HOPE , I have ...
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aught babe baby beauty believe beneath better bird born breath bright child cold dark dead dear death dream earth face fain fair faith fancy fear feel flowers give glad grace green hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven holy hope hour human knew lady land leaves less light live look Lord maid meet merry mighty mind morn mortal mother Nature never night nought o'er once pain poet poor praise pray prayer pretty PROMETHEUS pure seek seen sense sigh sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars strange summer sweet tears thee thine thing thou art thought tree true truth voice wert wild wind wings wish wood young youth