TO ROBERT BROWNING. THERE is delight in singing, though none hear In praising, though the praiser sit alone So varied in discourse. But warmer climes The Siren waits thee, singing song for song. WALTER SAVAGE LANDor. |
TO ROBERT BROWNING. THERE is delight in singing, though none hear In praising, though the praiser sit alone So varied in discourse. But warmer climes The Siren waits thee, singing song for song. WALTER SAVAGE LANDor. |