 | Poems |  |
CCXIX
IN A VOLUME OF AUSTIN DOBSON
The faded perfume of forgotten years,
The scent of withered rose-leaves sweetly faint,
Old-world imaginations, fancies quaint,
And fun just dancing on the edge of tears;
The scent of withered rose-leaves sweetly faint,
Old-world imaginations, fancies quaint,
And fun just dancing on the edge of tears;
203
A boy's delight, a little maiden's fears,
A heroine of the days of patch and paint,
The gentle visions of an old French saint,
The treachery that repels not but endears.
A heroine of the days of patch and paint,
The gentle visions of an old French saint,
The treachery that repels not but endears.
| Poems | |