I would resign the words of praise which now
Make my cheek crimson and my pulses beat.
Could I but deem that when my heart is cold
And my lip passionless, my songs would be
Numbered 'mid the young minstrels' first delights,
And murmured by the lover where his suit
Calls upon poetry to breathe of love. (Letitia Elizabeth Landon)

I would resign the words of praise which now Make my cheek crimson and my pulses beat. Could I but deem that when my heart is cold And my lip passionless, my songs would be Numbered 'mid the young minstrels' first delights, And murmured by the lover where his suit Calls upon poetry to breathe of love.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

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beat cheek cold crimson deem heart lip love lover mid now poetry praise suit young words

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