I stand upon the Venice bridge Of sighs, A palace and a prison on each Side. I saw from the tidal waves so

O, come to talk to Thee O there is only thee O, I love the winters Nights

It is I write a few lines Of a poets story of thy Times We all like Mr chimes Who drinks gin on the

O.,er the banks Of the boni doon Touch and sit by The slippery moon O,.er the fields of

Gapes around the silent arena Tis inside bugle trumpets bull ca… Tis of wild angry soundings foot Bounds and spurns the angry mighty Brute, first run in the sand pit,…

Yet you know upon you To let me suffer the pain The hurtfull strain in the Rain. Humilinate does you know sad

The sweet smell of flowers Lies in the wet dewy grass Upon they wake of the dawn Of the day From dawn to dust they

For the priest and the holy well And the bell .thy story tell., And for the spinning wheels, Spindle spun, And to walk over the sand dunes

This open glen was thick with Thorns Tis then the white of the flower hide the horns of the shy fallow Deer

Still waters of the stream Row in my boat in the river Tay. Upon the swans of the lake Come up to side of the boat

I see a game this a shame To see you at my front door a dame of fame sits by the Shore. Delights to see the blue floor

draw draw draw Near the artists lair Upon he sits on the Gallery chair Lay with honey yellow

O, enough, we live - 0,and a life, O, with large results 0 and, so Little rife, O thy see it bearable 0 and see It worth,