A wild moon riding high from cloud to cloud, That sees and sees not, glimmering far beneath, Hell's children revel along the shuddering heath With dirge-like mirth and raiment like a shroud:...
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one Spake, might the word be said that might speak Thee. Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea, What power is in them all to praise the sun?...
Dark days have passed, but you who taught me then To look upon the world with trustful eyes, Are not forgotten! Quick to sympathise With noble thoughts, I've dreamt of moments when...
Is 'Death', when evil against good has fought With such fell mastery that a man may dare By deeds the blackest purpose to lay bare? Is Death, for one to that condition brought,...
Young ardent soul, graced with fair Nature's truth, Spring warmth of heart, and fervency of mind, And still a large late love of all thy kind. Spite of the world's cold practice and Time's tooth, -...
Expression, child of soul! I fondly trace Thy strong enchantments, when the poet's lyre, The painter's pencil catch thy sacred fire, And beauty wakes for thee her touching grace -...
Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, Hears thee by cruel men and impious call'd Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthrall'd From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain....
Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray Each in the other melting. Much mine eye Delights to linger on thee; for the day,...
In this chill morning of a wintry Spring I look into the gloom'd and rainy vale; The sullen clouds, the stormy winds assail, Lour on the fields, and with impetuous wing...
I saw pale Dian, sitting by the brink Of silver falls, the overflow of fountains From cloudy steeps; and I grew sad to think Endymion's foot was silent on those mountains....
This pleasant tale is like a little copse: The honied lines do freshly interlace, To keep the reader in so sweet a place, So that he here and there full hearted stops; And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops...
Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen...
Happy is England! I could be content To see no other verdure than its own; To feel no other breezes than are blown Through its tall woods with high romances blent: Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment...
Ceas'd is the rain; but heavy drops yet fall From the drench'd roof; - yet murmurs the sunk wind Round the dim hills; can yet a passage find Whistling thro' yon cleft rock, and ruin'd wall....
Do I not tell thee surly Winter's flown, That the brook's verge is green; - and bid thee hear, In yon irriguous vale, the Blackbird clear, At measur'd intervals, with mellow tone,...
When mourn the dark Winds o'er the lonely plain, And from pale noon sinks, ere the fifth cold hour, The transient light, Imagination's power, With Knowledge, and with Science in her train,...
Searching auld wives' barrels, Och, hon! the day! That clarty barm should stain my laurels; But, what'll ye say! These movin' things ca'd wives and weans Wad move the very hearts o' stanes!