I need not ask thee, for my sake, To read a book which well may make Its way by native force of wit Without my manual sign to it. Its piquant writer needs from me No gravely masculine guaranty,...
We love cold water as it flows from the fountain, Which nature hath brewed alone in the mountain; In the wild woods and in the rocky dell, Where man hath not been but the deer loves to dwell;...
Crippled his limbs, and sightless are his eyes; I view the youth, and feel compassion rise. He sings! how sweet the notes! in pleased amaze I listen, listen, and admiring gaze....
Dead? or is it a dream Only the voice of a dream? Dead in the prime of his years, And laid in the lap of the dust; Only a handful of ashes Moldering down into dust.
The Gothic looks solemn, The plain Doric column Supports an old Bishop and Crosier; The mouldering arch, Shaded o'er by a larch Stands next door to Wilson the Hosier.
Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st, Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st, To thee this votive offering I impart, The tearful tribute of a broken heart....
Beguiled into forgetfulness of care Due to the day's unfinished task; of pen Or book regardless, and of that fair scene In Nature's prodigality displayed Before my window, oftentimes and long...
Ere the morn the East has crimsoned, When the stars are twinkling there, (As they did in Watts's Hymns, and Made him wonder what they were:) When the forest-nymphs are beading...
The world is sweet, and fair, and bright, And joy aboundeth everywhere, The glorious stars crown every night, And thro' the dark of ev'ry care Above us shineth heaven's light. ...
Show me again the time When in the Junetide's prime We flew by meads and mountains northerly! - Yea, to such freshness, fairness, fulness, fineness, freeness, Love lures life on. ...
Oh! form'd to prompt the smile or tear, At once so sweet, yet so severe! As much for you as him I grieve; Ah! thoughtless! if you thus can leave A mind with wit and learning bright,...