Satires of Circumstance, lyrics and reveries with miscellaneous pieces by Thomas Hardy
page 18 of 177 (10%)
page 18 of 177 (10%)
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When I set out for Lyonnesse, A hundred miles away, The rime was on the spray, And starlight lit my lonesomeness When I set out for Lyonnesse A hundred miles away. What would bechance at Lyonnesse While I should sojourn there No prophet durst declare, Nor did the wisest wizard guess What would bechance at Lyonnesse While I should sojourn there. When I came back from Lyonnesse With magic in my eyes, None managed to surmise What meant my godlike gloriousness, When I came back from Lyonnesse With magic in my eyes. A THUNDERSTORM IN TOWN (A Reminiscence) |
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