 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 270 sider
...an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest Grace ; For well she knew, I could not choose Bat gaze upon her Face. 139 I told her of the Knight, that wore Upon his Shield a burning Brand ; And... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 272 sider
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 282 sider
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own,' My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story—- An old rude Song that fitted well... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 280 sider
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 356 sider
...my Joy, My own dear Genevieve! ' . Few sorrows hath she of her own,. My Hope! my Joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. Iplay'da soft and doleful Air, I.sang an old and moving Story— An old rude Song that fitted .well... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1805 - 284 sider
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that...an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1805 - 284 sider
...ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me bast, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I...an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1817 - 330 sider
...my- joy! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story...song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1817 - 334 sider
...lay, Amid the lingering light. 119 Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
 | 1820 - 774 sider
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story— An old rude song, that suited well... | |
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She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that for ten long years he wooed The lady of... 
