a sigh for the past.
205
And over embroidery rich and rare,
Have bent through the livelong day,
And a little maiden at my feet,
With a lute and a pleasant lay.
Have bent through the livelong day,
And a little maiden at my feet,
With a lute and a pleasant lay.
And I would have graced the tournament
Where knights were in the list,
Or swept along with a merry train,
And a falcon on my wrist:
I'd have had a milk-white palfrey too,
And a page in green and gold;
And tales of love should have lulled mine ear,
By a wandering harper told.
Where knights were in the list,
Or swept along with a merry train,
And a falcon on my wrist:
I'd have had a milk-white palfrey too,
And a page in green and gold;
And tales of love should have lulled mine ear,
By a wandering harper told.
I'm weary of all the things I see,
Of steeples and chimnies high;
Of houses standing in long straight rows,
With carriages rolling by;
I hate a modern residence,
Fine sofas and Brusseled floors,
And a chandelier from the ceiling hung,
Or a mansion with folding doors.
Of steeples and chimnies high;
Of houses standing in long straight rows,
With carriages rolling by;
I hate a modern residence,
Fine sofas and Brusseled floors,
And a chandelier from the ceiling hung,
Or a mansion with folding doors.
