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Poem by William Lisle Bowles


To a Friend


Go, then, and join the murmuring city's throng!
Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears;
To busy phantasies, and boding fears,
Lest ill betide thee; but 't will not be long
Ere the hard season shall be past; till then
Live happy; sometimes the forsaken shade
Remembering, and these trees now left to fade;
Nor, mid the busy scenes and hum of men,
Wilt thou my cares forget: in heaviness
To me the hours shall roll, weary and slow,
Till mournful autumn past, and all the snow
Of winter pale, the glad hour I shall bless
That shall restore thee from the crowd again,
To the green hamlet on the peaceful plain.



William Lisle Bowles


William Lisle Bowles's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 7. At a Village in Scotland
  2. Netley Abbey
  3. Sonnet 11. Written at Ostend
  4. Glastonbury Abbey and Wells Cathedral
  5. Sonnet 5. To the River Tweed


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Matthew Arnold To a Friend ("Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?")
  • Anna Barbauld To a Friend ("May never more of pensive melancholy")
  • William Shenstone To a Friend ("Have you ne'er seen, my gentle Squire!")
  • Joseph Drake To a Friend ("Yes, faint was my applause and cold my praise")
  • James Fields To a Friend ("Go, with a manly heart")
  • Richard Hovey To a Friend ("ALL too grotesque our thoughts are sometimes")
  • Amy Lowell To a Friend ("I ask but one thing of you, only one")
  • James Lowell To a Friend ("One strip of bark may feed the broken tree")
  • John Pierpont To a Friend ("Friend of my dark and solitary hour")

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