Poems, by G. Hughes. With additions, Zväzok 1 |
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barque beams beneath blest bliss bosom bottle breast breath bright eyes bumper Burgher charms cheek cheer dark dear dear Doctor dearest deep delight Doctor Doctor Julius doth draught dream drink e'er earth fair fancy Farewell fear feel felt fill flower friends Friendship gaze glorious Green happy Hark harp hath hear heart heaven honour Hope hour Isle John Barleycorn John Bull knew Lancashire Witches land lasses Lassie laugh life's lips live our Prince Llangollen love thee Love's luv'd martial music merry mirth morning ne'er never Niccolls night o'er pass'd pleasure reach'd Rose-tree round sacred harp Say-wilt thou fly seem'd shine bright sigh sing sleep Sluggard smile song soon sorrow soul sparkling sparkling wine sweet Sweet Spring tears tell there's thine eyes thought twas unto vale valet Vigo-lady WARRINGTON watch'd Whilst wine
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Strana iii - I am nae Poet, in a sense, But just a Rhymer, like, by chance, An' hae to learning nae pretence, Yet, what the matter ? Whene'er my Muse does on me glance, I jingle at her. Your critic-folk may cock their nose, And say, ' How can you e'er propose, You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a sang ?' But, by your leaves, my learned foes, Ye're maybe wrang.
Strana iii - Your critic-folk may cock their nose, And say 'How can you e'er propose, You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a sang?' But, by your leaves, my learned foes, Ye're maybe wrang. What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns an' stools; If honest Nature made you fools, What sairs your grammars?