What are these leaves dark-spotted and acerb? 'A very holy herb.' To what good use may I this herb convert? 'Press it on thy soul's hurt.' When herb unto the hurt I thus apply? 'Herb-ert is sanctity.'
Beyond expression, delicately fine, Beneath her slender fingers swept the sound Of 'witching tones, melodious, divine; Soothing and soft upon the sense they wound, Join'd with the syrens' music, as it were,...
"Thou great First Cause," Creator, King, and Lord, The worm that breathed at Thy commanding word, And dies whene'er Thou wilt, presumptuous man, Has dared the mazes of Thy path to scan;...
We poets pride ourselves on what We feel, and not what we achieve; The world may call our children fools, Enough for us that we conceive. A little wren that loves the grass Can be as proud as any lark...
Where, where but here have Pride and Truth, That long to give themselves for wage, To shake their wicked sides at youth Restraining reckless middle-age.
Of late two dainties were before me plac'd Sweet, holy, pure, sacred and innocent, From the ninth sphere to me benignly sent That Gods might know my own particular taste:...
Oh, stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die In the long vaultings of this ancient fane! Stay, for I may not hear on earth again Those pious airs, that glorious harmony;...
Thanks for thy song, sweet Bird! thanks for thy song! O! 'twas delightful; how have I been lost As in a blissful dream! how has my soul Been wafted in a sea of melody!...
Hey, Giles! in what new garb art dresst? For Lads like you methinks a bold one; I'm glad to see thee so caresst; But, hark ye! - don't despise your old one....
Permit mine eyes to see Part, or the whole of Thee, O happy place! Where all have grace, And garlands shar'd, For their reward; Where each chaste soul In long white stole,...
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I lov'd, and next to Nature, Art; I warm'd both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
I'll write no more of love, but now repent Of all those times that I in it have spent. I'll write no more of life, but wish 'twas ended, And that my dust was to the earth commended.
Young I was, but now am old, But I am not yet grown cold; I can play, and I can twine 'Bout a virgin like a vine: In her lap too I can lie Melting, and in fancy die; And return to life if she...
Live by thy Muse thou shalt, when others die, Leaving no fame to long posterity; When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone, Here shall endure thy vast dominion.
When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent...
The bound, almost, now of my book I see, But yet no end of these therein, or me: Here we begin new life, while thousands quite Are lost, and theirs, in everlasting night.
Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint....
To my ninth decade I have tottered on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.