The Text is that of a copy mentioned by Percy, 'printed not long since at Glasgow, in one sheet 8vo. The world was indebted for its publication to the lady Jean Hume, sister to the Earle of Hume, who died lately at Gibraltar.' ...
You played and sang a snatch of song, A song that all-too well we knew; But whither had flown the ancient wrong; And was it really I and you? O, since the end of life's to live...
raise me more love... raise me my prettiest fits of madness O' dagger's journey... in my flesh and knife's plunge... sink me further my lady... the sea calls me add to me more death ......
Sing of America, sing of our Country! Land of two oceans, of palm-tree and pine! Firm as the rock of her towering mountains, Free as her rivers from Heaven-born fountains,...
You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride, How meekly she blest her humble lot, When the stranger, William, had made her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot....
Your heart has trembled to my tongue, Your hands in mine have lain, Your thought to me has leaned and clung, Again and yet again, My dear, Again and yet again. ...
Here by the moorway you returned, And saw the borough lights ahead That lit your face all undiscerned To be in a week the face of the dead, And you told of the charm of that haloed view...
From Swindon out to White Horse Hill I walked, in morning rain, And saw your shadow lying there. As clear and plain As lies the White Horse on the Hill I saw your shadow lying there. ...
You smiled, you spoke, and I believed, By every word and smile deceived. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hoped before: But let not this last wish be vain; Deceive, deceive me once again!
When life begins anew, And Youth, from gathering flowers, From vague delights, rapt musings, twilight hours, Turns restless, seeking some great deed to do, To sum his foster'd dreams; when that fresh birth...
His song of dawn outsoars the joyful bird, Swift on the weary road his footfall comes; The dusty air that by his stride is stirred Beats with a buoyant march of fairy drums....
Mood of youth, Mood of youth, Eagle-like must seek the blue, Dauntlessly its course pursue, All the mountain-heights must view. Blood of youth, Blood of youth,...
'Tis my twentieth year: dim, now, youth stretches behind me; Breaking fresh at my feet, lies, like an ocean, the world. And despised seem, now, those quiet fields I have travell'd:...
What do they know of youth, who still are young? They but the singers of a golden song Who may not guess its worth or wonder--flung Like largesse to the throng. We only,--young no longer,--old so long...