Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores, Would I might study to be prince of bores, Right wisely would I rule that dull estate-- But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.
We held the book together timidly, Whose antique music in an alien tongue Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings' ancient ecstasy,...
I Stately, kindly, lordly friend, Condescend Here to sit by me, and turn Glorious eyes that smile and burn, Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed, On the golden page I read....
Here, take this gift! I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or General, One who should serve the good old cause, the great Idea, the progress and freedom of the race;...
Did YOU ask dulcet rhymes from me? Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes? Did you find what I sang erewhile so hard to follow?...
Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind When I my homely dish with care designed; 'Twas certain humble souls I would have fed Who do not turn from wholesome milk and bread:...
We will not let thee be, for thou art ours. We thank thee still, though thou forget these things, For that hour's sake when thou didst wake all powers With a great cry that God was sick of kings. ...
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee, With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles, Thou gazest at the painted tiles, Whose figures grace, With many a grotesque form and face....
Dance there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water's roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet; Being young you have not known...
Love thy mother, little one! Kiss and clasp her neck again, - Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one!
Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters, Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their letters.
Small service is true service while it lasts: Of humblest Friends, bright Creature! scorn not one: The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.
Sweet Mary, though nor sighs nor pains Impassion'd courtship prove, My simple song the truth ne'er feigns To win thee to my love: I ask thee from thy bustling life, Where nought can pleasing prove,...
Beautiful cloud! with folds so soft and fair, Swimming in the pure quiet air! Thy fleeces bathed in sunlight, while below Thy shadow o'er the vale moves slow;...
Lady, wouldst thou heiress be To Winters cold and cruel part? When he sets the rivers free, Thou dost still lock up thy heart; - Thou that shouldst outlast the snow, But in the whiteness of thy brow?...
You that would break with the Past, Why with so rude a gesture take your leave? None hinders, go your way; but wherefore cast Contempt and boorish scorn Upon the womb from which even you were born?...
In a perfumed land caressed by the sun I found, beneath the trees' crimson canopy, palms from which languor pours on one's eyes, the veiled charms of a Creole lady.