The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore, And on our ears from deep among the hills Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar....
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing, The moonrise wakes the nightingale. Come darkness, moonrise, every thing That is so silent, sweet, and pale: Come, so ye wake the nightingale. ...
This way and that way measuring, Sighting from tree to tree, And from the bend of the river. This must be the place where Black Eagle Twelve hundred moons ago Stood with folded arms,...
Among disasters that dissension brings, This not the least is, which belongs to kings: If wars go well, each for a part lays claim; If ill, then kings, not soldiers, bear the blame.
Here am I yet, another twelvemonth spent, One-third departed of the mortal span, Carrying on the child into the man, Nothing into reality. Sails rent, And rudder broken, reason impotent...
The Old Year groaned as he trudged away, His guilty shadow black on the snow, And the heart of the glad New Year turned grey At the road Time bade him go.
Permit me, Reader, to make my bow, And allow Me to humbly commend to your tender mercies The hero of these simple verses. By domicile, of the British Nation; By birth and family, a Crustacean....
Braid the raven hair, Weave the supple tress, Deck the maiden fair In her loveliness; Paint the pretty face, Dye the coral lip. Emphasize the grace Of her ladyship!...
There, there, poor dog, my faithful friend, Pay you no heed unto my sorrow: But feast to-day while yet you may,-- Who knows but we shall starve to-morrow!
Misery is my lot, Poverty and pain; Ill was I begot, Ill must I remain; Yet the wretched days One sweet comfort bring, When God whispering says, "Sing, O singer, sing!" ...
When, to despoil my native France, With flaming torch and cruel sword And boisterous drums her foeman comes, I curse him and his vandal horde! Yet, what avail accrues to her,...
Still serve me in my age, I pray, As in my youth, O faithful one; For years I've brushed thee every day-- Could Socrates have better done? What though the fates would wreak on thee...
How wundersch'n das Vaterland In audumn-life abbears; Vot rainpows gild ids vallies crand, Ven seen troo vallin tears. Und VON I'll creet mit sang und klang, Und drown in goldnen wein;...
Dere's lighds oopon de Appian, Dey shine de road entlang; Und from ein hundert tombs dere brumms A wild Lateinisch song; It rings from Nero's goldnen haus; Evoe! here he coom!...
Ven de winter make oos shifer Und de bonds is froze mit ice, To shlide und shkate on de rifer, Mit de poys und gals is nice. Ven de horses hafe deir bits on, Und de roats pe vite mit shnow,...
A man on Nova Scotian Bay On broken raft was borne away, Right out on the open sea Where the storm did blow so free, No shelter from the wind or wave He thought the gulf would be his grave,...