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Song 10. O Tuneful voice, I still deplore O Tuneful voice, I still deplore Those accents which, tho' heard no more, Still vibrate on my heart; In echo's cave I long to dwell, And still would hear the sad farewell, When we were doom'd to part. Bright eyes, O that the task were mine, To guard the liquid fires that shine, And round your orbits play; To watch them with a vestal's care, And feed with smiles a light so fair. That it may ne'er decay. Anne Hunter's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1220 |
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