Works

April made me: winter laid me here away asleep.Bright as Maytime was my daytime; night is soft and deep:Though the...

The lightning and thunderThey go and they come:But the stars and the stillnessAre always at home.

Fill me a mighty bowlUp to the brim,That I may drinkUnto my Jonson's soul.Crown it again, again;And thrice repeatThat...

All that a man can say of woman's charms,Mine eyes have spoken and my lips have toldTo you a thousand times. Your...

De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;Dey has cut de...

It is well when you've lived in clover,To mourn for the days gone by,Would I live the same life overCould I live...

As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday,And lazily leaning back in my chair,Enjoying myself in a general way -Allowing my...

The trees are afraid to put forth buds,And there is timidity in the grass;The plots lie gray where gouged by...

The yellow sun steps over the mountain-topAnd falters a few short steps across the lake -Are you awake?See,...

Aw'd rayther face a redwut brick,Sent flyin at mi heead;Aw'd rayther track a madman's steps,Whearivver they may...

Patrick astore,[1] what news upon the town?By my soul there's bad news, for the gold she was pull'd down,The gold she...

I.I cannot rest o' the night, Mother,For my heart is cold and wan:I fear the return o' light, Mother,Since my own...

De moon shines ofer de cloudlens,Und de cloudts plow ofer de sea,Und I vent to Coney Island,Und I took mein Schatz...

Sea to sea that clasps and fosters England, uttering ever-moreSong eterne and praise immortal of the indomitable...

"Saint Praxed's ever was the Church for peace"If down here I chance to die,Solemnly I beg you takeAll that is left of...

Let others prate of Greece and Rome,And towns where they may never be,The muse should wander nearer home.My country...

(Spirit of Lord Eldon speaks)This England is gone staring mad,She hath abolished Chancery,[J]See the long lines of...

I sit before the firelight's glowWith all the world in apogee,And con good Master FlorioWith pipe a-light; and as I...

They walked the valley of the dead;Lit by a weird half light;No sound they made, no word they said;And they were pale...

No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wroughtSo rich as the arms of my love can be;No gems with a lovelier lustre...