| Iolo Aneurin Williams - 1923 - 524 pągines
...mind ! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl... | |
| Robert Bridges - 1924 - 296 pągines
...of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl... | |
| William Cullen Bryant - 1925 - 412 pągines
...of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift- winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to he there ; But, alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl... | |
| 1926 - 780 pągines
...mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl... | |
| Edith P. Hazen - 1992 - 1172 pągines
...in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms. Than reign in this horrible place. (1. 1—8) 24 nds hold against chaos. that is a place of first seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. (1. 45-48) FiP; FPL;... | |
| Louis Fairchild - 2002 - 364 pągines
...friends made by years of association. "Father was suffering such pangs of remorse at this time."41 When I think of my own native land. In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. 42 Loneliness and... | |
| Geoffrey O'Brien, Billy Collins - 2007 - 778 pągines
...the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea- fowl... | |
| |