 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
When first we heard Rossetti sing,
We twanged the melancholy lyre;
We sang like this—like anything—
When first we heard Rossetti sing.
And all our song was faded spring,
And dead delight and dark desire,
When first we heard Rossetti sing,
We twanged the melancholy lyre.
We twanged the melancholy lyre;
We sang like this—like anything—
When first we heard Rossetti sing.
And all our song was faded spring,
And dead delight and dark desire,
When first we heard Rossetti sing,
We twanged the melancholy lyre.
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |