The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son. In eight volumes |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
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![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | III, IV, V. |
![]() | VI, VII. |
![]() | VIII. |
![]() | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | ![]() |
It was a night such bold desires to move,
Strong winds and wintry torrents fill'd the grove;
The crackling boughs that in the forest fell,
The cawing rooks, the cur's affrighten'd yell;
The scenes above the wood, the floods below,
Were mix'd, and none the single sound could know;
“Loud blow the blasts,” they cried, “and call us as they blow.”
Strong winds and wintry torrents fill'd the grove;
The crackling boughs that in the forest fell,
The cawing rooks, the cur's affrighten'd yell;
The scenes above the wood, the floods below,
Were mix'd, and none the single sound could know;
“Loud blow the blasts,” they cried, “and call us as they blow.”
![]() | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | ![]() |