The miller by the shore am I, A man o' despert sense; I've fotty different soorts o' ways O' addlin' honest pence. Good wheat and wuts and barley-corns My mill grinds all t' day lang ;...
It is the miller's daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles in her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night, I'd touch her neck so warm and white. ...
Near the high road upon a winding stream An honest Miller rose to Wealth and Fame: The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days, And all the Country echo'd with his praise:...
In the upper circles Moves a famous man Who has had no equal Since the world began. He was once a broker Down by the exchange; He is now a nabob-- Don't you think it strange? ...
One of a hundred little rills-- Born in the hills, Nourished with dews by the earth, and with tears by the sky, Sang--"Who so mighty as I? The farther I flow The bigger I grow....
Beneath my skull-bone and my hair, Covered like a poisonous well, There is a land: if you looked there What you saw you'd quail to tell. You that sit there smiling, you...
No life worth naming ever comes to good If always nourished on the selfsame food; The creeping mite may live so if he please, And feed on Stilton till he turns to cheese,...
The mind, with its own eyes and ears, May for these others have no care; No matter where this body is, The mind is free to go elsewhere. My mind can be a sailor, when This body's still confined to land;...
William was holding in his hand The likeness of his wife! Fresh, as if touched by fairy wand, With beauty, grace, and life. He almost thought it spoke:--he gazed Upon the bauble still,...
Kind reader, tarry here, nor miss The law of Minneapolis. There was a carpenter called Brown, A citizen of that great town, Who stood his "inexpressive she"...
No book of monsters is complete Without the Minotaur of Crete. Yet should I draw him you would quail, So in his place I draw a veil. O stars, that from Creation's birth...
"What hear I at the gateway ringing? What bard upon the drawbridge singing? Go bid him to repeat his song Here, in the hall amid the throng," The monarch cried; The little page hied;...
The Minstrel-Boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on. And his wild harp slung behind him. "Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,...
Oh let it be where the waters are meeting, In one crystal sheet, like the summer's sky bright! Oh let it be where the sun, when retreating, May throw the last glance of his vanishing light....