A Book of old English love songs . CtO**9 KOWA*0f /. RUST not, Sweet Soul! those curledwaves of goldWith gentle tides which on yourtemples flow,Nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow,Nor snow of cheeks with Tyrian grain not those shining lights which wrought my woe,When first I did their burning rays be-hold;Nor voice whose sounds more strange effects do showThan of the Thracian harper have been told!Look to this dying lily, fading rose,Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beamsMade all the neighbouring herbs and grassrejoice [83] n Qtrutft not, §>tom §>oul

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A Book of old English love songs . CtO**9 KOWA*0f /. RUST not, Sweet Soul! those curledwaves of goldWith gentle tides which on yourtemples flow,Nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow,Nor snow of cheeks with Tyrian grain not those shining lights which wrought my woe,When first I did their burning rays be-hold;Nor voice whose sounds more strange effects do showThan of the Thracian harper have been told!Look to this dying lily, fading rose,Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beamsMade all the neighbouring herbs and grassrejoice [83] n Qtrutft not, §>tom §>oul And think how little is twixt lifes extremes!The sweet tyrant that did kill those flowersShall once, ay me, not spare that Spring ofyours. William Drummond.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1897