Seek not, for thou shalt not find it, what my end, what thine shall be; Ask not of Chaldaea's science what God wills, Leuconoe: Better far, what comes, to bear it. Haply many a wintry blast...
Lyce, the gods have listened to my prayer; The gods have listened, Lyce. Thou art grey, And still would'st thou seem fair; Still unshamed drink, and play, ...
The night-wind's shriek is pitiless and hollow, The boding bat flits by on sullen wing, And I sit desolate, like that "one swallow" Who found (with horror) that he'd not brought spring:...
Bandusia, stainless mirror of the sky! Thine is the flower-crown'd bowl, for thee shall die, When dawns again yon sun, the kid; Whose budding horns, half-seen, half-hid, ...
"Under the trees!" Who but agrees That there is magic in words such as these? Promptly one sees shake in the breeze Stately lime-avenues haunted of bees: Where, looking far over buttercupp'd leas,...
In lone Glenartney's thickets lies couched the lordly stag, The dreaming terrier's tail forgets its customary wag; And plodding ploughmen's weary steps insensibly grow quicker,...