 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 272 psl.
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that...an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 270 psl.
...Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er 1 sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft...an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 282 psl.
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own,' My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that...an old and moving Story—- An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 280 psl.
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that...an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 356 psl.
...my Joy, My own dear Genevieve! ' . Few sorrows hath she of her own,. My Hope! my Joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. Iplay'da soft and doleful Air, I.sang an old and moving Story— An old rude Song that fitted .well... | |
 | William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1805 - 284 psl.
...Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me bast, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1805 - 284 psl.
...my Harp Amid the ling'ring Light. Few Sorrows hath she of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1817 - 334 psl.
...lay, Amid the lingering light. 119 Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that...An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild arid hoary. She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew,... | |
 | 1820 - 496 psl.
...own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevivre She loves me best, wheneVr I sing The song* that make her griere. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story— An u'd rude tong, that suited well That ruin wild and hoar* She listened with a flitting blush, V- itii... | |
 | Winthrop Mackworth Praed, Walter Blunt - 1824 - 446 psl.
...complete harmony of expression, flow, and rhyme, with the feelings conveyed in these stanzas : — ' ' I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wUd and hoary. She listen'd, with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace : For well... | |
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With downcast eyes, and modest grace; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face. 
