AMONG those joys, 't is one at eve to sail CRABBE. WHEN, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still, WORDSWORTH. When Fortune frowns and hopes deceive Thy answer was a blush and tear : In Youth's gay spring, 'mid Pleasure's Though years-long years have darkly bowers, Where all is sunshine, mirth, and flowers, We met ;-I bent the adoring knee, And told a tender tale to thee! sped, Since thou wert number'd with the dead, In fancy oft thy form I see; In dreams, at least, I'm still with thee! |