@3Knight:@1 Anna-Marie, love, up is the sun, Anna-Marie, love, morn is begun, Mists are dispersing, love, birds singing free, Up in the morning, love, Anna-Marie. Anna-Marie, love, up in the morn, The hunter is winding blithe sounds on his horn, The echo rings merry from rock and from tree. 'Tis time to arouse thee, love, Anna-Marie. @3Wamba:@1 O Tybalt, love, Tybalt, awake me not yet, Around my soft pillow while softer dreams flit; For what are the joys that in waking we prove, Compared with these visions, O Tybalt! my love? Let the birds to the rise of the mist carol shrill, Let the hunter blow out his loud horn on the hill, Softer sounds, softer pleasures, in slumber I prove, But think not I dream of thee, Tybalt, my love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAR IS KIND: 23 by STEPHEN CRANE SONGS by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS FROM AN EXCAVATION ON THE WARRIOR RIVER by ESTHER BARRETT ARGO THE HOUREGLASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT QUEEN GUENEVERE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE SWALLOW by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON WAITING IN WINTER (1) by STANLEY BURNSHAW ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |