And will she leave the lowly clowns For silk and satins gay, Her woollen aprons and drab gowns For lady's cold array? And will she leave the wild hedge rose, The redbreast and the wren,...
Not with the splendors of the days of old, The spoil of nations, and barbaric gold; No weapons wrested from the fields of blood, Where dark and stern the unyielding Roman stood,...
Pensive, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All, Desperate, on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battle-fields gazing; (As the last gun ceased but the scent of the powder-smoke linger'd;)...
There is no inn in Snowdon which is not awful dear, Excepting Pen-y-gwrydd (you can't pronounce it, dear), Which standeth in the meeting of noble valleys three - One is the vale of Gwynant, so well beloved by me,...
"My First, but don't suppose," he said, "I'm setting you a riddle, Is, if your Victim be in bed, Don't touch the curtains at his head, But take them in the middle, ...
"Oh, when I was a little Ghost, A merry time had we! Each seated on his favourite post, We chumped and chawed the buttered toast They gave us for our tea."
Amid a fertile region green with wood And fresh with rivers, well doth it become The Ducal Owner, in his Palace-home To naturalise this tawny Lion brood; Children of Art, that claim strange brotherhood,...
Amid a fertile region green with wood And fresh with rivers, well did it become The ducal Owner, in his palace-home To naturalise this tawny Lion brood; Children of Art, that claim strange brotherhood...
Say not the Poet dies! Though in the dust he lies, He cannot forfeit his melodious breath, Unsphered by envious death! Life drops the voiceless myriads from its roll; Their fate he cannot share,...
Twice had the mellowing sun of autumn crowned The hundredth circle of his yearly round, When, as we meet to-day, our fathers met: That joyous gathering who can e'er forget,...
To drift with every passion till my soul Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play, Is it for this that I have given away Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?...
I wandered through Scoglietto's far retreat, The oranges on each o'erhanging spray Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day; Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, for it doth never wear The autumn's gaudy livery whose gold Her jealous brother pilfers, but is true...
The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun,...
I stood, unseen, within a sumptous room, Where one clothed all in white sat silently. So sweet his presence that a pure soft light Rayed from him, and I saw--most wondrous sight!--...
What wonder this? we ask the lympid well, O earth! of thee and from thy solemn womb What yieldest thou? is there life in the abyss Doth a new race beneath the lava dwell?...
Thick in its glass The physic stands, Poor Henry lifts Distracted hands; His round cheek wans In the candlelight, To smell that smell! To see that sight!