The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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III. |
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VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. | XI |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | ||
XI
Sweet, thou art gone and I must write a word
To tell how I have loved thee, and how clear
The memory of thy presence shall record
Thy dearest eyes thro' many a lapsing year,
To tell how I have loved thee, and how clear
The memory of thy presence shall record
Thy dearest eyes thro' many a lapsing year,
The sweetest face that ever maiden wore,
The kind true heart, the nameless sympathy,
Perfect of flaw rich youth in all its store—
Dear little thing, I love thee fixedly.
The kind true heart, the nameless sympathy,
Perfect of flaw rich youth in all its store—
Dear little thing, I love thee fixedly.
Fair little form, how precious every fold
Of thy grey dress: each glancing shade how sweet
Of movement, from the ringlet-woof of gold
To those dear steps and tiny-printed feet.
Of thy grey dress: each glancing shade how sweet
Of movement, from the ringlet-woof of gold
To those dear steps and tiny-printed feet.
Ah, Love, I love thee so, yet my weak praise
Thinks with full heart, but speaks in old love-lays.
Thinks with full heart, but speaks in old love-lays.
The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | ||