AH, what avails the sceptred race,
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these watchful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.
Poetósfera › La Biblioteca › Alice Meynell
Alice Meynell · Vanguardias / s. XX
inglés
AH, what avails the sceptred race,
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these watchful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.
ws-en-walter-savage-landor-rose-aylmer--alice-meynell-cae98dLas obras de dominio público se reproducen íntegras, con atribución y en la ortografía de su impreso. No pedimos datos personales para avisar de una errata; para otra cosa, escríbenos desde Sobre la casa.