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  • Tussle The Chill Beyond Measure Oh! That Exquisite Pleasure Now A Dead Leafless Pine Remnant of An Affair Clandestine

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    Stuti Sharma Gaur
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    The poem describes a solitary Highland lass reaping grain in a field and singing a melancholy song. As the narrator listens, they are unable to make out the subject of the song but speculate that it may be about past battles or everyday sorrows. The lass's singing fills the vale and is more beautiful than any nightingale. Even after the narrator leaves the field, the music remains in their heart.

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    The poem describes a solitary Highland lass reaping grain in a field and singing a melancholy song. As the narrator listens, they are unable to make out the subject of the song but speculate that it may be about past battles or everyday sorrows. The lass's singing fills the vale and is more beautiful than any nightingale. Even after the narrator leaves the field, the music remains in their heart.

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    3 views4 pages

    Tussle The Chill Beyond Measure Oh! That Exquisite Pleasure Now A Dead Leafless Pine Remnant of An Affair Clandestine

    Uploaded by

    Stuti Sharma Gaur
    The poem describes a solitary Highland lass reaping grain in a field and singing a melancholy song. As the narrator listens, they are unable to make out the subject of the song but speculate that it may be about past battles or everyday sorrows. The lass's singing fills the vale and is more beautiful than any nightingale. Even after the narrator leaves the field, the music remains in their heart.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    of 4

    WINTER LOVER

    That winter gone Shadow of a lover anon The warming sun in a haze Memories of the passionate embrace Heat of the burning ember Reminder of the caresses so tender Cold winds blowing hiss The lingering taste of our kiss Sounds of the blankets rustle Reliving the long lost romantic tussle

    The chill beyond measure Oh! That exquisite pleasure Now a dead leafless pine Remnant of an affair clandestine

    Solitary reaper wordsworth BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; I listen'd, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

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    MISSING YOU In the middle of the night When I grope for the light I think I miss you To your side of bed When I turn my head I think I miss you At the breakfast table Where its only me n cable I think I miss you In the rush hour When alone in my car I think I miss you Going down the road While looking at a board I think I miss you Inside the mall When I hear someone call I think I miss you Barefoot on the sand When I stretch my hand I think I miss you At the door when I turn my key And let inside solitary me I think I miss you

    Under the starry sky Lone in blanket when I lie I think I miss you But most of all When my beat rise n fall I know I miss you

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