I'll lay me down on the green sward, Mid yellowcups and speedwell blue, And pay the world no more regard, But be to Nature leal and true. Who break the peace of hapless man...
Before my light goes out for ever if God should give me a choice of graces, I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be; But cry: "One day of the great lost days, one face of all the faces,...
By Beauty's caresses, like Cupid, half-spoil'd, Thus Music's and Poesy's favourite child Exclaim'd, - "'Tis, by Heaven! a terrible thing Before a he-party to sit and to sing!"...
The sign of the house should be chang'd, I'll be sworn, Where enchanted we find so much beauty and grace; Then quick from the door let the lion be torn, And an angel expand her white wings in his place.
Whilst, in a dress that one might swear The whole was made of woven air, Pert Fashion spreads her senseless sway Over the giddy and the gay (Who think, by showing all their charms,...
Between Adam and me the great difference is, Tho' a paradise each has been forced to resign, That he never wore breeches, till turned out of his, While for want of my breeches, I'm banisht from mine.
A Traveler on the skirt of Sarum's Plain Pursued his vagrant way, with feet half bare; Stooping his gait, but not as if to gain Help from the staff he bore; for mien and air...
At this particular time I have no one Particular person to grieve for, though there must Be many, many unknown ones going to dust Slowly, not remembered for what they have done...
In paths untrodden, In the growth by margins of pond-waters, Escaped from the life that exhibits itself, From all the standards hitherto publish'd - from the pleasures, profits, eruditions, conformities,...
Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn, Shoot forth with lively power at Spring's return; And be not slow a stately growth to rear Of pillars, branching off from year to year,...
Rude is this Edifice, and Thou hast seen Buildings, albeit rude, that have maintained Proportions more harmonious, and approached To closer fellowship with ideal grace....
Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones Is not a Ruin spared or made by time, Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem'st, the Cairn Of some old British Chief: 'tis nothing more...
Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones Is not a Ruin spared or made by time, Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem'st, the Cairn Of some old British Chief: 'tis nothing more...
If, in the silent mind of One all-pure, At first imagin'd lay The sacred world; and by procession sure From those still deeps, in form and colour drest, Seasons alternating, and night and day,...