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Gayly The Troubadour Touched His Guitar. -- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- Welcome Me Home
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Gayly the troubadour
Touched his guitar.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839)
-- Welcome me Home
Related:
The rose that all are praising Is not the rose for me.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- The Rose that all are praising...
Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- Teach me to forge...
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long ago.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- Long, long ago...
We met,--'t was in a crowd. -- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- We me
Absence makes the heart grow fonder: Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- Isle of Beauty...
Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- The Pilo...
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, The holly-branch shone on the old oak wall.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- The Mistletoe Bough...
Oh pilot, 't is a fearful night! There 's danger on the deep.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- The Pilo...
She wore a wreath of roses The night that first we met.
-- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- She wore a Wreath...