Salma
@ommasalma.bsky.social
“Champagne Dilettante” According to friends.
Yes, pour, ye warblers! pour the notes of woe,
And soothe the Virtues weeping o’er his bier:
The man of worth—and hath not left his peer!
Is in his “narrow house,” for ever darkly low.
Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet;
Me, memory of my loss will only meet.
And soothe the Virtues weeping o’er his bier:
The man of worth—and hath not left his peer!
Is in his “narrow house,” for ever darkly low.
Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet;
Me, memory of my loss will only meet.
January 25, 2025 at 4:07 PM
Yes, pour, ye warblers! pour the notes of woe,
And soothe the Virtues weeping o’er his bier:
The man of worth—and hath not left his peer!
Is in his “narrow house,” for ever darkly low.
Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet;
Me, memory of my loss will only meet.
And soothe the Virtues weeping o’er his bier:
The man of worth—and hath not left his peer!
Is in his “narrow house,” for ever darkly low.
Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet;
Me, memory of my loss will only meet.
How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes?
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend!
How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies.
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend!
How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies.
January 25, 2025 at 4:06 PM
How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes?
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend!
How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies.
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend!
How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies.