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37
LINES TO ------.
WRITTEN ON THE SANDS OF HASTINGS.
As the sea-shell retains in its bosom
The sighs of the waves where it play'd,
Still breathing them, never to lose them,
Till dark into ruin 'tis laid:
The sighs of the waves where it play'd,
Still breathing them, never to lose them,
Till dark into ruin 'tis laid:
So, deep in my bosom are lying
The sighs, you, false maid! breath'd to me;
And there will they echo, undying,
Till breathless that bosom shall be.
The sighs, you, false maid! breath'd to me;
And there will they echo, undying,
Till breathless that bosom shall be.
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