An honest man here lies at rest As e'er God with his image blest! The friend of man, the friend of truth; The friend of age, and guide of youth; Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,...
The stream goes fast. When this that is the present is the past, 'Twill be as all the other pasts have been, A failing hill, a daily dimming scene, A far strange port with foreign life astir...
Quiet he lived, and quietly died; Nor, like the unwilling tide, Did once complain or strive To stay one brief hour more alive. But as a summer wave Serenely for a while...
No trophy this - a Stone unhewn, And stands where here the field immures The nameless brave whose palms are won. Outcast they sleep; yet fame is nigh - Pure fame of deeds, not doers;...
I love to look on a scene like this, Of wild and careless play, And persuade myself that I am not old And my locks are not yet gray; For it stirs the blood in old man's heart, And makes his pulses fly,...
We gaze, nor grieve to think that we must die, But that the precious love this friend hath sown Within our hearts, the love whose flower hath blown Bright as if heaven were ever in its eye,...
By Art's bold privilege Warrior and War-horse stand On ground yet strewn with their last battle's wreck; Let the Steed glory while his Master's hand Lies fixed for ages on his conscious neck;...
O Ary Scheffer! when beneath thine eye, Touched with the light that cometh from above, Grew the sweet picture of the dear Lord's love, No dream hadst thou that Christian hands would tear...
Streets of the roaring town, Hush for him, hush, be still! He comes, who was stricken down Doing the word of our will. Hush! Let him have his state, Give him his soldier's crown....
The tree the tempest with a crash of wood Throws down in front of us is not bar Our passage to our journey's end for good, But just to ask us who we think we are ...
I think it better that in times like these A poet keep his mouth shut, for in truth We have no gift to set a statesman right; He has had enough of meddling who can please...
The devil got notice that Grose was a-dying, So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying; But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay moaning, And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning,...
Once, and once only, have I seen thy face, Elia! once only has thy tripping tongue Run o'er my breast, yet never has been left Impression on it stronger or more sweet....