64
_Thou_ lay thy branch of _laurel_ down (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc.
_Thou_ lay thy branch of _laurel_ down (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc.
Byron
264
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away (_Poems
1814-1816_), iii. 423
There's something in a stupid ass (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii. 63
These locks, which fondly thus entwine (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 36
They say that Hope is happiness (_Poems 1814-1816_), iii. 438
Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair (_Poems 1809-1813_),
iii. 70, _390_
Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 8
This Band, which bound thy yellow hair (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 212
This day, of all our days, has done (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _). vii. 71
This faint resemblance of thy charms (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 32, _36_
This votive pledge of fond esteem (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 78
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 260
Thou art not false, but thou art fickle (_Poems 1809-1818_), iii.
64
_Thou_ lay thy branch of _laurel_ down (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii. 19
Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days (_Hours of
Idleness_), i. 254
Thou whose spell can raise the dead (_Hebrew Melodies_), iii. 392
Though the day of my Destiny's over (_Poems of July-September, 1816_),
iv. 54
Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen (_Poems 1809-1818_), iii. 11
Through Life's dull road, so dim and dirty (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii.
73
Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle (_Hours of
Idleness_), i. 1
Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe (_Poems 1809-1813_),
iii. 71
Thy days are done, thy fame begun (_Hebrew Melodies_), iii. 391
Thy verse is "sad" enough, no doubt (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 252
Time! on whose arbitrary wing (_Poems 1809-1813_), iii. 60
'T is done--and shivering in the gale (_Hours of Idleness_), i.
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away (_Poems
1814-1816_), iii. 423
There's something in a stupid ass (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii. 63
These locks, which fondly thus entwine (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 36
They say that Hope is happiness (_Poems 1814-1816_), iii. 438
Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair (_Poems 1809-1813_),
iii. 70, _390_
Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 8
This Band, which bound thy yellow hair (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 212
This day, of all our days, has done (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _). vii. 71
This faint resemblance of thy charms (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 32, _36_
This votive pledge of fond esteem (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 78
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 260
Thou art not false, but thou art fickle (_Poems 1809-1818_), iii.
64
_Thou_ lay thy branch of _laurel_ down (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii. 19
Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days (_Hours of
Idleness_), i. 254
Thou whose spell can raise the dead (_Hebrew Melodies_), iii. 392
Though the day of my Destiny's over (_Poems of July-September, 1816_),
iv. 54
Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen (_Poems 1809-1818_), iii. 11
Through Life's dull road, so dim and dirty (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii.
73
Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle (_Hours of
Idleness_), i. 1
Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe (_Poems 1809-1813_),
iii. 71
Thy days are done, thy fame begun (_Hebrew Melodies_), iii. 391
Thy verse is "sad" enough, no doubt (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 252
Time! on whose arbitrary wing (_Poems 1809-1813_), iii. 60
'T is done--and shivering in the gale (_Hours of Idleness_), i.