Poems by William Collins

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

To fair Fidele’s grassy tomb
Home, thou return’st from Thames, whose naiads long
To fair Fidele’s grassy tomb
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
In the downhill of life, when I find I’m declining,
As once, if not with light regard,
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
(STROPHE)
O thou, by Nature taught
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
When Music, heavenly maid, was young,

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