Poem by Robert Seymour Bridges

* * *

Sometimes when my lady sits by me
  My rapture’s so great, that I tear
My mind from the thought that she’s nigh me,
  And strive to forget that she’s there.
  And sometimes when she is away
Her absence so sorely does try me,
  That I shut to my eyes, and assay
To think she is there sitting by me.

1. The Palm Willow
2. January
3. To Joseph Joachim
4. A Robin
5. To Catullus

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