Frederick Locker-Lampson (Фредерик Локер-Лэмпсон)

Circumstance

    The Orange

It ripen’d by the river banks,
   Where, musk and moonlight aiding,
Dons Whiskerandos play sad pranks,
   Dark Donnas serenading.

By Moorish maiden it was pluck’d,
   Who broke some hearts, they say, then,
By Saxon sweetheart it was suck’d,—
   Who threw the peel away then.

How little thought the London Fair,
   Or dark-eyed Girl of Seville,
That I should reel upon that peel,
   And find my proper level!

1. The Four Seasons
2. Miss Edith
3. A Glimpse of Gretna Green, in the Distance
4. A Sketch in Seven Dials
5. My Firstborn

Ella Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс) Circumstance ("Talk not to me of souls that do conceive")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1702

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