AGAIN the silent wheels of time
Their annual round have driven,
And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
Are so much nearer Heaven.
No gifts have I from Indian coasts
The infant year to hail;
I send you more than India boasts,
In Edwin's simple tale.
Our sex with guile, and faithless love,
Is charg'd, perhaps too true;
But may, dear maid, each lover prove
An Edwin still to you.
Faithless love at last gets nothing without damnation sufferings................///
faithless love, Is charg'd, perhaps too true; But may, dear maid, each lover prove An Edwin still to you. a very good poem. tony
'AGAIN the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, '....Beautiful lines!
Splendid! A piece of work worthy of reading time and again! !
Beautiful Classic Poem Of The Day. I enjoyed the reading and rereadingnthis loveliest poem
Amazing opening lines, powerful Modern Poem Of the Day! 5 Stars!
James Beattie's work 'The Minstrel' or The Progress of Genius' with it's character, Edwin.
Our with guile, and faithless love, Is charg'd, perhaps too true; But may, dear maid, each lover prove An Edwin still to you. Robert Burns WHAT MORE OF SEXLESS BUT HARD CAN EVER BE SO TRUE BURNS THE FIRE INSIDE ONLY BURNS U COULD DO THE MAID MUST STILL BE SMOLDERING WITHIN YEARS OF AGEING
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No gifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail; I send you more than India boasts, In Edwin's simple tale. great write great 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++