The American Monthly Magazine, Том 4;Том 10M. Bancroft, J. Wiley, and G. and C. and H. Carvill, 1837 |
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Сторінка 580 - Yet could not, till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes ; For, in the flaxen lilies' shade, It like a bank of lilies laid. Upon the roses it would feed, Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed And then to me 'twould boldly trip, And print those roses on my lip.
Сторінка 178 - How cheeks brent red wi' shame, Whene'er the scule-weans, laughin' said, We cleek'd thegither hame ? And mind ye o' the Saturdays, (The scule then skail't at noon,) When we ran aff to speel the braes — The broomy braes o...
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