 | sir Herbert Croft (5th bart.) - 1780 - 324 páginas
...unto my roundelay, 0! drop the brfny tear with me 5 Dance no more on holyday, Like a running river be. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. If your ear be ftruckby the cadence, you will1 be ftruck not a little, in the remainder of the' fong,... | |
 | 1784 - 204 páginas
...unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear wiih me J Dance no more on holiday ; Like a running river be. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree I Black his hair as winter night ; White his (kin as dimmer fnow ; Red his face as morning light ;•... | |
 | Poetical selections - 1811 - 324 páginas
...under the willow tree. Black his hair as the winter night, White his skin as the summer snow, Ruddy his face as the morning light, Cold he lies in the...is my true love's shroud; Whiter than the morning i,ky, Whiter than the evening cloud; My love is dead, Gone to his deathbed, All under the willow tree.... | |
 | 1822 - 418 páginas
...death-bed, All under the wjllow tree. See ! the white moon shines on high ; Whiter is my true-love's shroud ; Whiter than the morning sky, Whiter than...Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. Here, upon my true-love's grave, Shall the barren flowers be laid, Nor one holy saint to save All the... | |
 | John Johnstone (of Edinburgh.) - 1828 - 600 páginas
...thought was he, Deft his tabor, cudgel stout, O ! he lies by the willow-tree : My love is dead, &c. See ! the white moon shines on high ; Whiter is my...sky, Whiter than the evening cloud : My love is dead, &c. Here upon my true love's grave Shall the garen (a) flowers be laid ; Not one holy saint to save... | |
 | Joseph Cottle - 1829 - 318 páginas
...his wiug In the briard dell below ; Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing To the night-mares as they go. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. See the white moon» shines on high, Whiter is my true love's shroud ; Whiter than the morning sky,... | |
 | 1834 - 358 páginas
...my roundelay, O ! drop the briny tear with me ; Dance no more at holiday, Like a running river we. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow tree. Come with acorn-cup and thorne, Drain my [pure] heart's blood away ; Life and all its goods I scorn,... | |
 | 1835 - 842 páginas
...the dance as thought can be — Deft his tabor — cudgel stout — О ho lies by the willow tree. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. Hist, the raren flaps his wing To Iho nighc-marea aa they go, And the death-owl hoarse doth slug, From... | |
 | Thomas Chatterton - 1842 - 528 páginas
...are essentiallv sublime. We need not aggregate examples, — one instance will be sufficient : •' See the white moon shines on high, Whiter is my true love's shroud," is continually haunting us, and contains a psychological mystery on which we are never weary of meditating.... | |
 | Thomas Chatterton - 1842 - 494 páginas
...poems are essentially sublime. We need not aggregate examples, — one instance will be sufficient : " See the white moon shines on high, Whiter is my true love's shroud," is continually haunting us, and contains a psychological mystery on which we are never weary of meditating.... | |
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In the briar'd dell below; Hark ! the death-owl loud doth sing To the nightmares as they go. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow- tree. 
