The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;...
You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light Perceive ye in rapt POESY, tho' bright In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow...
Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear...
If GENIUS has its danger, grief and pain, That Common-Sense escapes, yet who wou'd change The Powers, thro' Nature, and thro' Art that range, To keep the bounded, tho' more safe domain...
Behold him now his genuine colours wear, That specious False-One, by whose cruel wiles I lost thy amity; saw thy dear smiles Eclips'd; those smiles, that us'd my heart to cheer,...
A garland for a grave! Fair flowers that bloom, And only bloom to fade as fast away, We twine your leaflets 'round our Claudia's tomb, And with your dying beauty crown her clay. ...
Let brutish hearts, as hard as stones, Mock The weak Muse's tender moans, As now she wails o'er Titty's bones With anguish deep; Doubtless o'er parent's dying groans They'd little weep. ...
The moonlight is without; and I could lose An hour to gaze, though Taste and Splendour here, As in a lustrous fairy palace, reign! Regardless of the lights that blaze within,...
Hark! from Spain, indignant Spain, Burst the bold, enthusiast strain, Like morning's music on the air; And seems in every note to swear By Saragossa's ruined streets, By brave Gerona's deathful story,...
Dey been speakin' at de cou't-house, An' laws-a-massy me, 'T was de beatness kin' o' doin's Dat evah I did see. Of cose I had to be dah In de middle o' de crowd, An' I hallohed wid de othahs,...
Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk, Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk, Fallin' kind o' soft an' light, Not enough to make things white, But jest sorter siftin' down So 's to cover up the brown...
He is to weet a melancholy carle: Thin in the waist, with bushy head of hair, As hath the seeded thistle when in parle It holds the Zephyr, ere it sendeth fair...
In after-time, a sage of mickle lore Yclep'd Typographus, the Giant took, And did refit his limbs as heretofore, And made him read in many a learned book, And into many a lively legend look;...
Spirit of a Great Control, Gird me with thy strength and might, Essence of the Over-Soul - Fill me, thrill me with thy light; Though the waves of sorrow beat Madly at my very feet,...
When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid Upon the spirit aching for the light And all the wide horizon's line is hid By a black day sadder than any night;
Sprig, Sprig--Oh lovely Sprig! Oh, hast thou cub to stay? Add wilt the little birdies sig Throughout the livelog day? What bessage dost thou brig to be, Fair Lady of by dreabs--...
M'rgar't, 're you gr'eving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Le'ves, like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? 'h! 's the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder...