As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care.
The winds were laid, the air was still,
The stars they...
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Italia, in thy bleeding heart |
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I thought, in the days of the droving, |
Volcanoes be in Sicily |
The band was playing a waltz-quadrille, |
More proudly on thy winding course, |
Water makes many Beds |
Water, is taught by thirst. |