 | The Poems of Robert Bloomfield |  |
Pollett, farewell! Thy dashing oar
Shall lull us into peace no more;
But where Kyrle trimm'd his infant green,
Long mayst thou with thy bark be seen;
And happy be the hearts that glide
Through such a scene, with such a guide.
Shall lull us into peace no more;
But where Kyrle trimm'd his infant green,
Long mayst thou with thy bark be seen;
And happy be the hearts that glide
Through such a scene, with such a guide.
| The Poems of Robert Bloomfield | |