If some day this body of mine were burned (It found no favour alas! with you) And the ashes scattered abroad, unurned, Would Love die also, would Thought die too? But who can answer, or who can trust,...
I watched them from the window, thy children at their play, And I thought of all my own dear friends, who were far, oh, far away, And childish loves, and childish cares, and a child's own buoyant gladness...
Not a line of her writing have I, Not a thread of her hair, No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby I may picture her there; And in vain do I urge my unsight To conceive my lost prize...
A changing medley of insistent sounds, Like broken airs, played on a Samisen, Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore. The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry...
What, thou, my friend! a man of rhymes, And, better still, a man of guineas, To talk of "patrons," in these times, When authors thrive like spinning-jennies, And Arkwright's twist and Bulwer's page...
Still e'er that shrine defiance rears its head, Which rolls in sullen murmurs o'er the dead, That shrine which conquest, as it stems the flood. Too often tinges deep with human blood;...
What mean the joyous sounds from yonder vine-clad height? What the exulting Evoe? [63] Why glows the cheek? Whom is't that I, with pinions light, Swinging the lofty Thyrsus see? ...
"Love your neighbor as yourself," So the parson preaches; That's one-half the Decalogue. So the Prayer-book teaches. Half my duty I can do With but little labor, For with all my heart and soul...
I sat me down in my easy chair, To read, as usual, the morning papers; But--who shall describe my look of despair, When I came to Lefroy's "destructive" capers! That he--that, of all live men, Lefroy...
Oft have I seen, in gay, equestrian pride, Some well-rouged youth round Astley's Circus ride Two stately steeds--standing, with graceful straddle, Like him of Rhodes, with foot on either saddle,...
How can we find? how can we rest? how can We, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man? We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate, Who love the unloving and lover hate, Forget the moment ere the moment slips,...
High in the midst, surrounded by his peers, Magnus [1] his ample front sublime uprears: Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God, While Sophs [2] and Freshmen tremble at his nod;...
Thou hast woven the spell that hath bound me, Through all the sad changes of years; And the smiles that I wore when I found thee, Have faded and melted in tears!...
Thou leanest to the shell of night, Dear lady, a divining ear. In that soft choiring of delight What sound hath made thy heart to fear? Seemed it of rivers rushing forth...
Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er; Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken, Thou lovest no more--thou lovest no more.