 | Iolo Aneurin Williams - English poetry - 1923 - 524 pages
...send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem... | |
 | Robert J. Berens - Fiction - 2001 - 178 pages
...again. A whiff of perfume greeted Don as he removed the tinted pages from the envelope. Dearest Don, How fleet is a glance of the mind! / Compar'd with the speed of its flight / The tempest himself lags behind / And the swift winged arrows of light. / When I think of my own nature land,/In... | |
 | William Cowper - Literary Collections - 2003 - 124 pages
...A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. 40 How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift wing'd arrows of light. When 1 think of my own native land, In a moment I seem... | |
 | Geoffrey O'Brien, Billy Collins - Poetry - 2007 - 778 pages
...send A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem... | |
 | English poetry - 1801 - 224 pages
...send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend , Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! — Compar'd with...the speed of its flight , The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift - winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem... | |
 | Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Company - Express trains - 1907 - 480 pages
...send A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend. Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight; The tempest itself lags behind. And the swift-wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem... | |
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Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. 
