A garland for a grave! Fair flowers that bloom, And only bloom to fade as fast away, We twine your leaflets 'round our Claudia's tomb, And with your dying beauty crown her clay. ...
Let brutish hearts, as hard as stones, Mock The weak Muse's tender moans, As now she wails o'er Titty's bones With anguish deep; Doubtless o'er parent's dying groans They'd little weep. ...
Smooth went our boat upon the summer seas, Leaving, for so it seemed, the world behind, Its sounds of mingled uproar: we, reclined Upon the sunny deck, heard but the breeze...
Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease (Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!) Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed 'Mong rosebuds, wooing to the cheeks of these...
Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease (Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!) Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed 'Mong rosebuds, wooing to the cheeks of these...
The dance was o'er, yet still in dreams That fairy scene went on; Like clouds still flusht with daylight gleams Tho' day itself is gone. And gracefully to music's sound,...
So warmly we met and so fondly we parted, That which was the sweeter even I could not tell,-- That first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted, Or that tear of passion, which blest our farewell....
Reading over your letters I find you wrote me "My dear boy," or at times "dear boy," and the envelope Said "master" - all as I had been your very son, And not the orphan whom you adopted....
What time I left my native land, And bade farewell to my true love, She laid a flower in my hand As azure as the sky above. "Speed thee well! Speed well!" She softly whispered, "Speed well!...
In after-time, a sage of mickle lore Yclep'd Typographus, the Giant took, And did refit his limbs as heretofore, And made him read in many a learned book, And into many a lively legend look;...
Spirit whose work is done! spirit of dreadful hours! Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering pressing;)...
Amidst the clamour of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasures start. ...