I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;...
Ah me! those old familiar bounds! That classic house, those classic grounds My pensive thought recalls! What tender urchins now confine, What little captives now repine,...
Come, let us set our careful breasts, Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief, That makes her accents so forlorn; The world has many cruel points,...
Oh Peace, oh come with me and dwell - But stop, for there's the bell. Oh Peace! for thee I go and sit in churches On Wednesday, when there's very few In loft or pew -...
MY DEAR SIR - The following Ode was written anticipating the tone of some strictures on my writings by the gentleman to whom it is addressed. I have not seen his book; but I know by hearsay that some...
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! - Art thou that huntress of the silver bow, Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread...
Author Of "The Cook's Oracle," "Observations On Vocal Music," "The Art Of Invigorating And Prolonging Life," "Practical Observations On Telescopes, Opera-Glasses, And Spectacles," "The Housekeeper's Ledger," And "The Pleasure O...
Our village, that's to say, not Miss Mitford's village, but our village of Bullock Smithy, Is come into by an avenue of trees, three oak pollards, two elders, and a withy;...
Well, the country's a pleasant place, sure enough, for people that's country born, And useful, no doubt, in a natural way, for growing our grass and our corn....