 | Leigh Hunt - 1820 - 432 pagine
...verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways» 1 cannot see what (lowers are at my feet, * Nor what soft ineeuse hangs upon the boughs« But, in embalmed darkness,...wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine i Fast fading violets cover'd up in. leaves; I . And mid-May's eldest child, ; The coming meek-rose,... | |
 | 1820 - 606 pagine
...mossy ways. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor «bat soft incense hangs upon the Änghs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith...wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-iosc, full of... | |
 | 1820 - 596 pagine
...what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, Hut, in embalmed darkness, gueee each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket,... | |
 | 1823 - 400 pagine
...what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense...wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast fading violets covered up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full... | |
 | Cabinet - 1824 - 440 pagine
...what from heaven is with breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. V. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft Incense...Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.... | |
 | Vicesimus Knox - 1825 - 404 pagine
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 | 1826 - 638 pagine
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 | John Keats - 1926 - 738 pagine
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 | William Hone - 1826 - 876 pagine
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 | William Hone - 1827 - 858 pagine
...from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 5. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense...hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, puess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild... | |
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I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet... 
