In Nature's pieces still I see Some error, that might mended be; Something my wish could still remove, Alter or add; but my fair love Was fram'd by hands far more divine...
I was always a lover of ladies' hands! Or ever mine heart came here to tryst, For the sake of your carved white hands' commands; The tapering fingers, the dainty wrist;...
Think not thy little fountain's rain That in the sunlight rose and flashed, From the bright sky has fallen again, To cold and shadowy silence dashed. The Joy that in her radiance leapt...
Long in the lap of childhood didst thou sleep, Think how thy youth like chaff did disappear; Shall life's sweet Spring forever last? Look up, Old age approaches ominously near....
He had drifted in among us as a straw drifts with the tide, He was just a wand'ring mongrel from the weary world outside; He was not aristocratic, being mostly ribs and hair,...
Bring me a quart of colonial beer And some doughy damper to make good cheer, I must make a heavy dinner; Heavily dine and heavily sup, Of indigestible things fill up,...
And he is risen? Well, be it so . . . And still the pensive lands complain, And dead men wait as long ago, As if, much doubting, they would know What they are ransomed from, before...
In candent ire the solar splendor flames; The foles, langueseent, pend from arid rames; His humid front the Give, anheling, wipes, And dreams of erring on ventiferous riper. ...
They's a kind o' feel in the air, to me. When the Chris'mas-times sets in. That's about as much of a mystery As ever I've run ag'in! - Fer instunce, now, whilse I gain in weight...
One day a young enchantress told her suitor, A prince whose passion nothing could allay: “If you want me to believe your ardour, Go, Shah-zadeh, your royal brother slay.”...
Silver key of the fountain of tears, Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild; Softest grave of a thousand fears, Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child, Is laid asleep in flowers.
We sat beneath tall waving trees that flung Their heavy shadows o'er the dewy grass. Over the waters, breaking at our feet, Quivered the moon, and lighted solemnly The scene before us. ...
Poor Dick nah sleeps quietly, his labor is done, Deeath shut off his steam tother day; His engine, long active, has made its last run, An his boiler nah falls to decay....