I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild... Recollections of a Literary Life - Página 318de Mary Russell Mitford - 1855 - 558 páginasVisualização completa - Sobre este livro
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...perfume cried. (John Donne) (2)Smell how it tastes\ (3)Johnson's Baby Powder; The soft smell. (4)But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicked, and the fruit tree wild. (John Keats) ote ce .se. When we say a musician strikes a "bl igage... | |
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...blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. V I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith...musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. VI Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful... | |
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...seasonable month endows White hawthorn, and the pastoral23 eglantine24; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming...musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 8 Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole... | |
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