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" When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 75 The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile), Could those few pleasant... "
The minor poems of William Cowper - Страница 15
по William Cowper - 1818 - 108 страници
Пълен достъп - Информация за книгата

Poems

William Cowper - 1818 - 448 страници
...myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile,) Could those few pleasant hours again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? 1 would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — But...

Specimens of the British Poets: Whitehead, 1785, to Anstey, 1805

Thomas Campbell - 1819 - 466 страници
...I prick'd them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those...trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desir'd, perhaps I might.— But no— what here we call our life is such, So little to be lov'd, and...

The Imperial magazine; or, Compendium of religious, moral, & philosophical ...

1834 - 614 страници
...the while, "Would'st softly epeak, and stroke my head, nad •mile ;) Could those few pleasant dnye again appear, Might one wish bring them— would I...heart, the dear delight Seems so to be desired.**— p. 6-1J. Our readers, if we may estimate their pleasure in perusing this long extract by the delicate...

Poems of William Cowper, Esq: With a New Memoir

William Cowper - 1869 - 306 страници
...jessamine, I prick'd them into paper with a pii, vAnd thou was happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile,) Could those...trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desir'd, perhaps I might — But no — what here we call our life is such, So little to be lov'd,...

Poems, Том 1

William Cowper - 1821 - 556 страници
...I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those...trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desir'd, perhaps I might. — But no — what here we call our life is such, So little to be loved,...

Select Works of the British Poets: With Biographical and Critical ..., Том 9

John Aikin - 1821 - 314 страници
...I prick'd them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile,; Could those few pleasant days again appear, [here ? Might one wish bring them, would I wish them I would not trust my heart—the dear delight...

The British Poets: Including Translations ...

British poets - 1822 - 310 страници
...smile), Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? 1 would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps T might. — But no — what here we call our life is such So little to be loved, and thou so much,...

Conversations on Poetry:: Intended for the Amusement and Instruction of Children

Author of the Buxton diamonds - 1824 - 160 страници
...I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak and stroke my head and smile). Could those few...call our life is such, So little to be loved, and thon so much, That I should ill requite thee to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again." * "...

Poems of William Cowper, Esq

William Cowper - 1824 - 470 страници
...I prick'd them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile) Could those few...them here? I would not trust my heart — the dear delightj Seems so to be desir'd, perhaps I might — But no — what here we call our life is such,...

Poems

William Cowper - 1824 - 446 страници
...I prick'd them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might tine wish bring them, would I wish them here i I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems...




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