Alla inlägg under april 2012
I will not be remember'd when Mirth shall her pageant joys impart,-- A dream to sparkle in thine eye, Yet vanish from thy heart. But when pensive sadness clouds thee, When thoughts, half pain, half pleasure, steal Upon the heart, and memory doth The shadowy past reveal. When seems the bliss of former years,-- Too sweet, too pure, to feel again,-- And long lost hours, scenes, friends, return, Remember me, love--then!
I'd rather be the gentle shade, Lengthening as eve comes stealing on, And rest in pensive sadness there, When those bright rays are gone. I will not be a smile to play Upon thy coral lip, and shed Around it sweetness, like the sun Risen from his crimson bed. Oh, no! I'll be the tear that steals In pity from that eye of blue, Making the cheek more lovely red, Like rose-leaf dipp'd in dew.
I'd rather be the one red leaf, Waving 'midst Autumn's sombre groves:-- On the heart to breathe that sadness Which contemplation loves. I will not be the morning ray, Dancing upon the river's crest, All light, all motion, when the stream Turns to the sun her breast.
I will not be the lightsome lark, That carols to the rising morn,-- I'd rather be some plaintive bird Lulling night's ear forlorn. I will not be the green, green leaf, Mingling 'midst thousand leaves and flowers That shed their fairy charms around To deck Spring's joyous bowers.
"Placido zeffiretto, Se trovi il caro oggetto, Digli che sei sospiro Ma non gli dir di chi, Limpido ruscelletto, Se mai t'incontri in lei, Digli che pianto sei, Ma non le dir qual' eiglio Crescer ti fe cosi."
"I stay'd too late: forgive the crime! Unheeded flew the hours; For noiseless falls the foot of Time. That only treads on flowers."
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