So wildered is my heart and brain
With thinking of that youth I love.'
T. Moore, Evenings in
Greece, p. 18.
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
Oh, if you felt the pain I feel!
But oh, who ever felt as I?
W. S. Landor, Simonidea, 1807.
Sweet mother, I can spin no more,