The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet, And laid him kneeling at thy feet. But, - guerdon rich for favor rare! The wind hath all thy holy hair To kiss and to sing through and to flare...
O Nightingale my heart How sad thou art! How heavy is thy wing, Desperately whirr'd that thy throat may fling Song to the tingling silences remote! Thine eye whose ruddy spark Burned fiery of late,...
So goodbye, Mrs. Brown, I am going out of town, Over dale, over down, Where bugs bite not, Where lodgers fight not, Where below your chairmen drink not, Where beside your gutters stink not;...
All the poppies in their beds Nodding crumpled crimson heads; And the larkspurs, in whose ears Twilight hangs, like twinkling tears, Sleepy jewels of the rain; All the violets, that strain...
Yes, Pamela, this infant tree Planted in sacred earth by thee, Shall strike its root, and pleasant grow Whilst I am mouldering dust below. This churchyard turf shall still be green,...
Heaven bless this new abode; defend its doors Against the entry of malignant sprites - Gaunt Poverty, pale Sickness, Care that blights; And o'er its thresholds, like the enchanted shores...
Oh! still, as with a seraph's voice, prolong The harmonies of that enchanting song, Till, listening, we might almost think we hear, Beyond this cloudy world, in the pure sphere...
Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child: With native Humour temp'ring virtuous Rage, Form'd to delight at once and lash the age: Above Temptation, in a low Estate, 5...
The world grows Lilliput, the great men go; If greatness be, it wears no outer sign; No more the signet of the mighty line Stamps the great brow for all the world to know....
Mortal! who, armed with holy fortitude, The path of good right onward hast pursued; May HE, to whose eternal throne on high The sufferers of the earth with anguish cry, Be thy protector! On that dreary road...
Sir Robert,[2] wearied by Will Pulteney's teasings, Who interrupted him in all his leasings, Resolved that Will and he should meet no more, Full in his face Bob shuts the council door;...
When Cupid did his grandsire Jove entreat To form some Beauty by a new receipt, Jove sent, and found, far in a country scene, Truth, innocence, good nature, look serene:...
The birds put off their every hue To dress a room for Montagu. The peacock sends his heavenly dyes, His rainbows and his starry eyes; The pheasant plumes, which round enfold...
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along: But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, That the beasts must have starved, and the poet have died.