Читать книгу The Life of Sir William Quiller Orchardson - Hilda Orchardson Gray - Страница 25
Farewell! my native shores, farewell! Ye scenes that smile upon the Forth, Ye hills and dales I know so well, Ye islets of my native North! Farewell! your voice sits on the breeze, It sighs a last farewell to me, Your form sinks faintly in the seas And night veils my sad heart and thee.
ОглавлениеI do not know to which of the many ladies the following was addressed nor does it matter very much, for all these little poems were only passing thoughts:
