WITH way-worn feet, a pilgrim woe-begone, And rudely garlanded; yet scorn not thou The humble offering, where the sad rue weaves, 'Mid gayer flowers its intermingled leaves, And I have twined the myrtle for thy brow. |
WITH way-worn feet, a pilgrim woe-begone, And rudely garlanded; yet scorn not thou The humble offering, where the sad rue weaves, 'Mid gayer flowers its intermingled leaves, And I have twined the myrtle for thy brow. |