Here you will find the Poem At Oxford of poet William Lisle Bowles
Bereave me not of Fancy's shadowy dreams, Which won my heart, or when the gay career Of life begun, or when at times a tear Sat sad on memory's cheek--though loftier themes Await the awakened mind to the high prize Of wisdom, hardly earned with toil and pain, Aspiring patient; yet on life's wide plain Left fatherless, where many a wanderer sighs Hourly, and oft our road is lone and long, 'Twere not a crime should we a while delay Amid the sunny field; and happier they Who, as they journey, woo the charm of song, To cheer their way;--till they forget to weep, And the tired sense is hushed, and sinks to sleep.
