Thomas Hood
First Lines
A Poor old king, with sorrow for my crown,
Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how
Alas! the moon should ever beam
Alone, across a foreign plain,
And has the earth lost its so spacious round,
By every sweet tradition of true hearts,
Dear Fanny! nine long years ago,
Farewell life! my senses swim,
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky
I heard a gentle maiden, in the spring,
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
I will not have the mad Clytie,
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh
Look how the golden ocean shines above
Look how the lark soars upward and is gone,
Love thy mother, little one! --
Love, dearest lady, such as I would speak,
Most delicate Ariel! submissive thing,
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
My heart is sick with longing, though I feed
No popular respect will I omit
O lady, leave thy silken thread
O'er hill, and dale, and distant sea,
O, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep,
Our hands have met, but not our hearts;
Rare composition of a poet-knight,
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
She stood breast-high amid the corn.
She's up and gone, the graceless girl!
Sigh on, sad heart, for Love's eclipse
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Still glides the gentle streamlet on,
The autumn skies are flushed with gold,
The dead are in their silent graves,
The stars are with the voyager
The world is with me, and its many cares,
We watched her breathing through the night
Welcome, dear heart, and a most kind good-morrow;
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