But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or see them drown in foamy draughts of old nut-brown, then I do wear the crown, without the cross!
Twas a jolly old pedagogue, long ago, Tall and slender, and sallow and dry; His form was bent, and his gait was slow, His long thin hair was white as… - George Arnold
Twas a jolly old pedagogue, long ago, Tall and slender, and sallow and dry; His form was bent, and his gait was slow, His long thin hair was white as…
- George Arnold
But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or see them drown in foamy draughts of old nut-brown, then I do w… - George Arnold
But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or see them drown in foamy draughts of old nut-brown, then I do w…
O sweet September, thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring And p… - George Arnold
O sweet September, thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring And p…
I hold that all the evil we know on earth finds in this violence done to love its true and legitimate birth. - George Arnold
I hold that all the evil we know on earth finds in this violence done to love its true and legitimate birth.
Experience is bitter, but its teachings we retain; It has taught me this--who once has loved, loves never on earth again! - George Arnold
Experience is bitter, but its teachings we retain; It has taught me this--who once has loved, loves never on earth again!
A silence reigns upon the air, Upon the pansies by the shore, Upon the violets, pale and fair, Upon the willow, bending o'er; The reeds and lilies si… - George Arnold
A silence reigns upon the air, Upon the pansies by the shore, Upon the violets, pale and fair, Upon the willow, bending o'er; The reeds and lilies si…
I let my summer days pass idly on. - George Arnold
I let my summer days pass idly on.
What rare days were those, When my chief duty was to write a song. - George Arnold
What rare days were those, When my chief duty was to write a song.
I love this simple maiden, She grows upon me more and more, And--ask the moon who 't was that kissed, Last night upon the shore! - George Arnold
I love this simple maiden, She grows upon me more and more, And--ask the moon who 't was that kissed, Last night upon the shore!
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