While with false pride, and narrow jealousy, Numbers reject each new expression, won, Perchance, from language richer than our own, O! with glad welcome may the POET see...
Ceas'd is the rain; but heavy drops yet fall From the drench'd roof; - yet murmurs the sunk wind Round the dim hills; can yet a passage find Whistling thro' yon cleft rock, and ruin'd wall....
'En allant promener aux champs, J'y ai trouv' les bl's si grands, Les aub'pines florissant. En verite, en verite, C'est le mois, le joli mois, C'est le joli mois de mai. ...
(Shadows over a cradle... fire-light craning.... A hand throws something in the fire and a smaller hand runs into the flame and out again, singed and empty.... Shadows...
Swags up! and yet I turn upon the way. The yellow hill against a dapple sky, With tufts and clumps of thorn, the bush whereby All through the wonder-pregnant night I lay...
Take up the household burden, No iron rule of kings, But make your family understand That you are running things, Don't storm around and bluster, And don't get mad and swear...
Artists (astrologers never lie) are birthed when Venus is rising - not against cat's whelp (eye of newt, tongue of frog) calamitous mist or London fog; far, ferny forbidding fenn. ...
A man that's spent years knocking round "out in front" Has most usually had lots of pals-- He's mixed up with pardners at various times And he's had his affairs with the gals....
Adieu, thou Hill! [1] where early joy Spread roses o'er my brow; Where Science seeks each loitering boy With knowledge to endow. Adieu, my youthful friends or foes,...
He came from "further out", That land of fear and drought And dust and gravel. He got a touch of sun, And rested at the run Until his cure was done, And he could travel. ...
A farmer built around his crop A wall, and crowned his labors By placing glass upon the top To lacerate his neighbors, Provided they at any time Should feel disposed the wall to climb. ...
In the oldest of our alleys, By good bejants tenanted, Once a man whose name was Wallace-- William Wallace--reared his head. Rowdy Bejant in the college He was styled:...
The bloom upon the grape I ask no more, Nor pampered fragrance of the soft-lipped rose, I only ask of Him who keeps the Door - To open it for one who fearless goes Into the dark, from which, reluctant, came...