Time of crisp and tawny leaves, And of tarnished harvest sheaves, And of dusty grasses - weeds - Thistles, with their tufted seeds Voyaging the Autumn breeze Like as fairy argosies:...
Poor conquered monarch! though that haughty glance Still speaks thy courage unsubdued by time, And in the grandeur of thy sullen tread Lives the proud spirit of thy burning clime; -...
O noble youth that held our honour in keeping, And bore it sacred through the battle flame, How shall we give full measure of acclaim To thy sharp labour, thy immortal reaping?...
Luck to the craft that bears this name of mine, Good fortune follow with her golden spoon The glazed hat and tarry pantaloon; And wheresoe'er her keel shall cut the brine,...
Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores, Would I might study to be prince of bores, Right wisely would I rule that dull estate-- But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.
We held the book together timidly, Whose antique music in an alien tongue Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings' ancient ecstasy,...
I Stately, kindly, lordly friend, Condescend Here to sit by me, and turn Glorious eyes that smile and burn, Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed, On the golden page I read....
Here, take this gift! I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or General, One who should serve the good old cause, the great Idea, the progress and freedom of the race;...
Did YOU ask dulcet rhymes from me? Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes? Did you find what I sang erewhile so hard to follow?...
Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind When I my homely dish with care designed; 'Twas certain humble souls I would have fed Who do not turn from wholesome milk and bread:...
We will not let thee be, for thou art ours. We thank thee still, though thou forget these things, For that hour's sake when thou didst wake all powers With a great cry that God was sick of kings. ...
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee, With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles, Thou gazest at the painted tiles, Whose figures grace, With many a grotesque form and face....
Dance there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water's roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet; Being young you have not known...
Love thy mother, little one! Kiss and clasp her neck again, - Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one!
Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters, Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their letters.