O English girl, divine, demure, To YOU I sing! - Austin Dobson

Additional quotes by Austin Dobson

All the seasons run their race
In this quiet resting place;
Peach, and apricot, and fig
Here will ripen, and grow big;
Here is store and overplus,—
More had not Alcinoüs!

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Fame is a food that dead men eat,—
I have no stomach for such meat.

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And round about its gray, time-eaten brow
Lean letters speak—a worn and shattered row:
I am a Shade: a Shadowe too arte thou:
I marke the Time: saye, Gossip, dost thou soe?

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