Ode to Pity by Jane Austen
1
Ever musing I delight to tread
The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove
Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed
On disappointed Love.
While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush
Sings sweet and Melancholy, And the thrush
Converses with the Dove.
2
Gently brawling down the turnpike road,
Sweetly noisy falls the Silent Stream–
The Moon emerges from behind a Cloud
And darts upon the Myrtle Grove her beam.
Ah! then what Lovely Scenes appear,
The hut, the Cot, the Grot, and Chapel queer,
And eke the Abbey too a mouldering heap,
Cnceal’d by aged pines her head doth rear
And quite invisible doth take a peep.
paket wisata yogyakarta says
Wow! This can be one particular of the most beneficial blogs We’ve ever arrive across on this subject. Actually Great. I am also a specialist in this topic so I can understand your hard work.
mantap168 says
You really make it appear so easy along with your presentation but I find this matter to be actually something which I believe I might never understand. It seems too complex and extremely wide for me. I am having a look forward on your next post, I will try to get the hold of it!