III

When dreams of fame my fancy fill,

Sweet soothing dreams of verse and rhyme,

That mark the poet's happy skill,

And bid him live to latest time,

Each rising thought

With music fraught,

All full, all flowing, nothing wanting,

All harmonious, all enchanting,

Oh thus, in rapt delights I say,

Thus let me sing my life away!

Anna St. Ives · 第 258 / 387 题