'Tis spent this burning day of June! Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing; The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling, That solitary bird Is all that can be heard...
Thus they, with freaks of proud delight, Beguile the remnant of the night; And many a snatch of jovial song Regales them as they wind along; While to the music, from on high,...
IF Wytheburn's modest House of prayer, As lowly as the lowliest dwelling, Had, with its belfry's humble stock, A little pair that hang in air, Been mistress also of a clock,...
Right gladly had the horses stirred, When they the wished-for greeting heard, The whip's loud notice from the door, That they were free to move once more. You think, those doings must have bred...
The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright, And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. ...
Young Chloe looks sweet as the rose, And her love might be reckoned no less, But her bosom so freely bestows That all may a portion possess. Her smiles would be cheering to see,...
Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly wheeled Thy plough to ring this solitary tree With clover, whose round plat, reserved a-field, In cool green radius twice my length may be -...
From bowers of gods the bees came down to man. On Mount Hymettus,[2] first, they say, They made their home, and stored away The treasures which the zephyrs fan....
I saw a cherry weep, and why? Why wept it? but for shame Because my Julia's lip was by, And did out-red the same. But, pretty fondling, let not fall A tear at all for that:...
Here's flowery taffeta for Mary's new gown: Here's black velvet, all the rage, for Dick's birthday coat. Pearly buttons for you, Mary, all the way down, Lace ruffles, Dick, for you; you'll be a man of note. ...
In days long gone by it was the custom of the Indian warriors of the forest to assemble at the Great Cataract and offer a human sacrifice to the Spirit of the Falls. The offering consisted of a white canoe, full of ripe fruits ...
The White Czar is Peter the Great. Batyushka, Father dear, and Gosudar, Sovereign, are titles the Russian people are fond of giving to the Czar in their popular songs.
High on a point of rugged ground Among the wastes of Rylstone Fell Above the loftiest ridge or mound Where foresters or shepherds dwell, An edifice of warlike frame Stands single Norton Tower its name...
From Bolton's old monastic tower The bells ring loud with gladsome power; The sun shines bright; the fields are gay With people in their best array Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf,...
'Tis night: in silence looking down, The Moon, from cloudless ether, sees A Camp, and a beleaguered Town, And Castle, like a stately crown On the steep rocks of winding Tees;...
The Harp in lowliness obeyed; And first we sang of the greenwood shade And a solitary Maid; Beginning, where the song must end, With her, and with her sylvan Friend;...