It was the stage-driver's story, as he stood with his back to the wheelers, Quietly flecking his whip, and turning his quid of tobacco; While on the dusty road, and blent with the rays of the moonlight,...
The morning is breaking-- The stag is away! The hounds and the hunters The signal obey! The horn bids the echoes Awake as we go, And nature is jocund With hark!--tally-ho! Hark away!...
Safe enough lay the poor hunted Deer In the ox-stall, with nothing to fear From the careless-eyed men: Till the Master came; then There was no hiding-place for the Deer. ...
Beside a placid, crystal flood, A stag admired the branching wood That high upon his forehead stood, But gave his Maker little thanks For what he call'd his spindle shanks....
Who framed the stanza of Childe Harold? He It was who, halting on a stormy shore, Knew well the lofty voice which evermore, In grand distress, doth haunt the sleepless sea...
I stood, one azure dusk, in old Auxerre Before the grey Cathedral's towering height, And in the Eastern darkness, very fair I saw a little star that twinkled bright;...
A white star born in the evening glow Looked to the round green world below, And saw a pool in a wooded place That held like a jewel her mirrored face. She said to the pool: "Oh, wondrous deep,...
Last night I watched a star fall like a great pearl into the sea, Till my ego expanding encompassed sea and star, Containing both as in a trembling cup.
The sun stepped down from his golden throne. And lay in the silent sea, And the Lily had folded her satin leaves, For a sleepy thing was she; What is the Lily dreaming of? Why crisp the waters blue?...
O'er the wide world I wander evermore, Through wind and weather heedless and alone, Alike through summer, and through winter hoar, On cloud-capt mountain, by the sea-wash'd shore,...
Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there! Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves'-eyes!...
Early in spring time, on raw and windy mornings, Beneath the freezing house-eaves I heard the starlings sing - 'Ah dreary March month, is this then a time for building wearily?...
We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime; Better a shred of a deep-dyed rag from the storms of the olden time. From grander clouds in our `peaceful skies' than ever were there before...
Where Time the measure of his hours By changeful bud and blossom keeps, And, like a young bride crowned with flowers, Fair Shiraz in her garden sleeps;
The star of love now shines above, Cool zephyrs crisp the sea; Among the leaves the wind-harp weaves Its serenade for thee. The star, the breeze, the wave, the trees, Their minstrelsy unite,...
The cannon is mute and the sword in its sheath Uncrimsoned the banner floats joyous and fair: Yet beauty is twining an evergreen wreath, And the voice of the minstrel is heard on the air....