Thus is the storm abated by the craft Of a shrewd Counselor, eager to protect The Church, whose power hath recently been checked, Whose monstrous riches threatened. So the shaft...
Where long and deeply hath been fixed the root In the blest soil of gospel truth, the Tree, (Blighted or scathed tho' many branches be, Put forth to wither, many a hopeful shoot)...
The tears of man in various measure gush From various sources; gently overflow From blissful transport some, from clefts of woe Some with ungovernable impulse rush; And some, coeval with the earliest blush...
Coldly we spake. The Saxons, overpowered By wrong triumphant through its own excess, From fields laid waste, from house and home devoured By flames, look up to heaven and crave redress...
NATHANIEL. Father! here father! I have found a horse-shoe! Faith it was just in time, for t'other night I laid two straws across at Margery's door, And afterwards I fear'd that she might do me...
To be able to see every side of every question; To be on every side, to be everything, to be nothing long; To pervert truth, to ride it for a purpose, To use great feelings and passions of the human family...
The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo! That instant, startled by the shock, The Buzzard mounted from the rock Deliberate and slow: Lord of the air, he took his flight;...
The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo! That instant, startled by the shock, The Buzzard mounted from the rock Deliberate and slow: Lord of the air, he took his flight;...
Though sorrow long has worn my heart; Though every day I've, counted o'er Hath brought a new and, quickening smart To wounds that rankled fresh before;
When I lie musing on my bed alone, And listen to the wintry waterfall;[1] And many moments that are past and gone, Moments of sunshine and of joy, recall;
Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to f...
Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to f...
I was a peasant girl from Germany, Blue-eyed, rosy, happy and strong. And the first place I worked was at Thomas Greene's. On a summer's day when she was away He stole into the kitchen and took me...
I love to see the old heath's withered brake Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling, While the old heron from the lonely lake Starts slow and flaps his melancholy wing,...
England! the time is come when thou should'st wean Thy heart from its emasculating food; The truth should now be better understood; Old things have been unsettled; we have seen...