"His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract" The tongue is loosed of that most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness. Listen: "Lo, The real god of song, Lord Stephano,...
Calico pie, The little birds fly Down to the calico-tree: Their wings were blue, And they sang "Tilly-loo!" Till away they flew; And they never came back to me!...
Young Calidore is paddling o'er the lake; His healthful spirit eager and awake To feel the beauty of a silent eve, Which seem'd full loath this happy world to leave;...
Oh, come, my beloved, from thy winter abode, From thy home on the Yuba, thy ranch overflowed; For the waters have fallen, the winter has fled, And the river once more has returned to its bed. ...
All silent.... So, he lies in state.... Our redwoods drip and drip with rain.... Against our rock-locked Golden Gate We hear the great, sad, sobbing main. But silent all.... He passed the stars...
Just lost when I was saved! Just felt the world go by! Just girt me for the onset with eternity, When breath blew back, And on the other side I heard recede the disappointed tide! ...
Call not the royal Swede unfortunate, Who never did to Fortune bend the knee; Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly Temptation; and whose kingly name and state...
Have patience, O my sorrow, and be still. You asked for night: it falls: it is here. A shadowy atmosphere enshrouds the hill, to some men bringing peace, to others care.
The storm hath passed; I hear the birds rejoice; the hen, Returned into the road again, Her cheerful notes repeats. The sky serene Is, in the west, upon the mountain seen:...
Calm be thy sleep as infant's slumbers! Pure as angel thoughts thy dreams! May every joy this bright world numbers Shed o'er thee their mingled beams! Or if, where Pleasure's wing hath glided,...
Calm is all nature as a resting wheel. The kine are couched upon the dewy grass; The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass, Is cropping audibly his later meal: Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal...
Calm is the fragrant air, and loth to lose Day's grateful warmth, tho' moist with falling dews. Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; Look up a second time, and, one by one,...
Ye who are kicking against Fate, Tell me how it is that on this hill-side Running down to the river, Which fronts the sun and the south-wind, This plant draws from the air and soil...