Do I see a contest yonder? See I miracles or pastimes? Beauteous urchins, five in number, 'Gainst five sisters fair contending, Measured is the time they're beating At a bright enchantress' bidding....
That was the proud woman, Naaman's wife. Basking at noon under the Syrian fans, While Naaman, the leprous mighty captain, Proud glowing flesh now silver-skinned and tainted,...
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see, And lovers' ears in hearing; And love in life's extremity Can lend an hour of cheering. Disease had been in Mary's bower, And slow decay from mourning,...
Through the town this good Man & his Son Strove to ride as to please everyone: Self, Son, or both tried, Then the Ass had a ride; While the world, at their efforts, poked fun. ...
The bonny March morning is beaming In mingled crimson and grey, White clouds are streaking and creaming The sky till the noon of the day; The fir deal looks darker and greener,...
Jane Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse Was good beyond all earthly need; But, on the other hand, her spouse Was very, very bad indeed. He smoked cigars, called churches slow,...
MUSE. Give me a kiss, my poet, take thy lyre; The buds are bursting on the wild sweet-briar. To-night the Spring is born - the breeze takes fire. Expectant of the dawn behold the thrush,...
O come you down from the far hills Whereon you fought, triumphed and died, Men at whose names the quick blood thrills And the heart's troubled in our side.
Four voyagers to parts unknown, On shore, not far from naked, thrown By furious waves, - a merchant, now undone, A noble, shepherd, and a monarch's son, - Brought to the lot of Belisarius,[2]...
Across the grass I see her pass; She comes with tripping pace,-- A maid I know,--and March winds blow Her hair across her face;-- With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly! Dolly shall be mine,...
A weight of awe, not easy to be borne, Fell suddenly upon my Spirit cast From the dread bosom of the unknown past, When first I saw that family forlorn. Speak Thou, whose massy strength and stature scorn...
A land untamed, whose myriad isles Are set in branching lakes that vein Illimitable silent woods, Voiceful in Fall, when their defiles, Rich with the birch's golden rain,...
She sits among the iris stalks Of babbling brooks; and leans for hours Among the river's lily flowers, Or on their whiteness walks: Above dark forest pools, gray rocks...
Come, ye sorrowful, and steep Your tired brows in a nectarous sleep: For our kisses lightlier run Than the traceries of the sun By the lolling water cast...