 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 272 str.
...of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 270 str.
...and, ah ! The low, the deep, the pleading tone, With which I sang another's Love, Interpreted my own. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest Grace ; And she forgave me, that I gaz'd Too fondly on her Face ! But when I told the cruel scorn Which craz'd... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 280 str.
...of her own, My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 282 str.
...of her own,' My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story—- An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 356 str.
...And, ah ! The low, the deep, the pleading tone,. With which I sang another's Love Interpreted my own. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest Grace;. And she forgave mo, that I gaz'd Too fondly on her Face! But when I told the cruel scorn Which craz'd... | |
 | William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1805 - 284 str.
...Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me bast, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1805 - 284 str.
...Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest... | |
 | 1820 - 774 str.
...of her own. My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang...and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not chuse But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ;... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1817 - 334 str.
...of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang...An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild arid hoary. She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew,... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1817 - 330 str.
...ah ! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own. • She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace ; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face ! But when I told the cruel scorn That craz'd... | |
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I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon... 
