| Leigh Hunt - 1820 - 432 pagina’s
...verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways» 1 cannot see what (lowers are at my feet, * Nor what soft ineeuse hangs upon the boughs« But, in embalmed darkness,...wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine i Fast fading violets cover'd up in. leaves; I . And mid-May's eldest child, ; The coming meek-rose,... | |
| 1820 - 606 pagina’s
...mossy ways. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor «bat soft incense hangs upon the Änghs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith...wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-iosc, full of... | |
| 1820 - 596 pagina’s
...flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, Hut, in embalmed darkness, gueee each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The...wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets coyer'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of... | |
| 1823 - 400 pagina’s
...light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what...wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast fading violets covered up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full... | |
| Cabinet - 1824 - 440 pagina’s
...light, Save what from heaven is with breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. V. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft...hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous... | |
| Vicesimus Knox - 1825 - 404 pagina’s
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| William Hone - 1826 - 876 pagina’s
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| 1826 - 638 pagina’s
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| John Keats - 1926 - 738 pagina’s
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| William Hone - 1827 - 858 pagina’s
...Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 5. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft...hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, puess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild... | |
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