Leonardo Da Vinci Gallery Edmund Dulac Gallery Paul Cezanne Gallery Henri Rousseau Gallery Gustav Klimt Gallery
First Lines of James NackAnd thou art torn, my fairest! Far, far from this grave be the footstep unholy, Forget me not, my blue-eyed maid, Go -- I from my soul disclaim thee, I know that thou art far away, I may not call to grandeur's hall My babe! my own, my precious babe! My fondest and fairest! Oh there is a song On that I were a king She calls me
father!-- though my ear She loved me well, whose precious head So it is gone! -- another year! Sweet murmurings of a father's name; That we for riper years should stay, The glittering stars we admire, The meanest wretch that sullies earth The winds of March are loose again, The world looks pleasantly and bright Though father and mother Twelve years ago! how swift their flight, When childhood shall have flown away, When I am in that distant place When to the crowded halls of mirth Yes, she is beautiful indeed!