To what serves mortal beauty | dangerous; does set danc- ing blood the O-seal-that-so | feature, flung prouder form Than Purcell tune lets tread to? | See: it does this: keeps warm...
A white face, drooping, on a bending neck: A tube-rose that with heavy petal curves Her stem: a foam-bell on a wave that swerves Back from the undulating vessel's deck. ...
The larks are loud above our leagues of whin Now the sun's perfume fills their glorious gold With odour like the colour: all the wold Is only light and song and wind wherein...
Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe All that I am in arts, all that I know (How nothing's that!), to whom my country owes The great renown and name wherewith she goes;...
Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre; While, fluent as the sky-lark sings When first the morn allures it's wings, The epicure his theme pursues: And tell me if, among the choir...
Dear architect of fine chateaux in air, Worthier to stand for ever, if they could, Than any built of stone or yet of wood, For back of royal elephant to bear!
Statesman, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent Mingles, reluctant, with my large content, I cannot censure what was nobly meant. But, while constrained to hold even Union less...
Champion of those who groan beneath Oppression's iron hand: In view of penury, hate, and death, I see thee fearless stand. Still bearing up thy lofty brow, In the steadfast strength of truth,...
1. The billows on the beach are leaping around it, The bark is weak and frail, The sea looks black, and the clouds that bound it Darkly strew the gale. Come with me, thou delightful child,...
I gat your letter, winsome Willie; Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly, An' unco vain, Should I believe, my coaxin' billie,...
The cherry-coloured velvet of your cloak Time hath not soiled: its fair embroideries Gleam as when centuries ago they spoke To what bright gallant of Her Daintiness,...
Friend of the Wise! and Teacher of the Good! Into my heart have I received that Lay More than historic, that prophetic Lay Wherein (high theme by thee first sung aright)...
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.' ...
No longer Beauty's many-colour'd robe Adorns the autumnal scene; no longer play The Zephyrs with her tresses; she has fled To happier regions, and has left the year...
Mostly in a dull rotation We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep. Feeling no tears, knowing no meditation, Too tired to think, too clogged with earth to weep. ...
About the country they may talk who will, Who praise it ever to the town's despite. Let him extol the charms of wood and hill Who finds them peerless. None disputes his right. ...