Bee-Bitten in the orchard hung The peach; or, fallen in the weeds, Lay rotting, where still sucked and sung The gray bee, boring to its seed's Pink pulp and honey blackly stung. ...
When famed Varelst this little wonder drew, Flora vouchsafed the growing works to view; Finding the painter's science at a stand, The goddess snatch'd the pencil from his hand,...
He asked me of my friend - "a clever man; Such various talent, business, journalism; A pen that might some day have sent out 'leaders' From our greatest newspapers." - "Yes, all this,...
What days await this woman, whose strange feet Breathe spells, whose presence makes men dream like wine, Tall, free and slender as the forest pine, Whose form is moulded music, through whose sweet...
There is a place I search for still, Sequestered as the world of dreams, A bushy hollow, and a hill That whispers with descending streams, Cool, careless waters, wandering down,...
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them, ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back...
Beneath an old beech-tree They sat together, Fair as a flower was she Of summer weather. They spoke of life and love, While, through the boughs above, The sunlight, like a dove,...
[The scene of this ancient fight, recorded by Froissart, is still called 'Altura de los Inglesos.' Five hundred years later Wellington's soldiers were fighting on the same ground.]
Long since, I lived beneath vast porticoes, By many ocean-sunsets tinged and fired, Where mighty pillars, in majestic rows, Seemed like basaltic caves when day expired. ...
In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee, Walled round with rocks as an inland island, The ghost of a garden fronts the sea....
Oh, Youth! could dark futurity reveal Her hidden worlds, unlock her cloud-hung gates, Or snatch the keys of mystery from time, Your souls would madden at the piercing sight...