Quote #9
My banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whose murmur invites one to sleep.
More from William Shenstone
- I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed.
- For seldom shall she hear a tale So sad, so tender, and so true.
- So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.
- Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Emblems right meet of decency does yield.
- Love is a pleasing but a various clime.
- A fool and his words are soon parted.
- A little bench of heedless bishops here, And there a chancellor in embryo.
- Every good poet includes a critic; the reverse will not hold.