echoes - Popular Poems and stories from category

Lady Clara Vere de
Was eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread
She took her little porringer:

I -
HT  With two bright eyes, my star, my love,     Thou lookest on the stars above:     Ah, would that I the heaven might be     With a million eyes to look on thee
Plato
II -

Late-born and woman-souled I dare not hope,
The freshness of the elder lays, the might Of manly, modern passion shall alight Upon my Muse's lips, nor may I cope (Who veiled and screened by womanhood must grope) With the world's strong-armed w...