The miser lay on his lonely bed; Life's candle was burning dim. His heart in an iron chest was hid Under heaps of gold and an iron lid; And whether it were alive or dead It never troubled him. ...
I believe that the copies of verses I've spun, Like Scheherezade's tales, are a thousand and one; You remember the story, - those mornings in bed, - 'T was the turn of a copper, - a tale or a head. ...
Like winds that with the setting of the sun Draw to a quiet murmuring and cease, So is her little struggle fought and done; And the brief fever and the pain In a last sigh fade out and so release...
"Four winds blowing through the sky, You have seen poor maidens die, Tell me then what I shall do That my lover may be true." Said the wind from out the south, "Lay no kiss upon his mouth,"...
Alas! this is not what I thought life was. I knew that there were crimes and evil men, Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen....
And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal Is that 'tis my distinction; if I fall, I shall not weep out of the vital day, To-morrow dust, nor wear a dull decay.
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream, Through the dim wildernesses of the mind; Through desert woods and tracts, which seem Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
Follow to the deep wood's weeds, Follow to the wild-briar dingle, Where we seek to intermingle, And the violet tells her tale To the odour-scented gale, For they two have enough to do...
The Elements respect their Maker's seal! Still Like the scathed pine tree's height, Braving the tempests of the night Have I 'scaped the flickering flame. Like the scathed pine, which a monument stands...
I faint, I perish with my love! I grow Frail as a cloud whose [splendours] pale Under the evening's ever-changing glow: I die like mist upon the gale, And like a wave under the calm I fail.
I would not be a king - enough Of woe it is to love; The path to power is steep and rough, And tempests reign above. I would not climb the imperial throne; 'Tis built on ice which fortune's sun...
Methought I was a billow in the crowd Of common men, that stream without a shore, That ocean which at once is deaf and loud; That I, a man, stood amid many more By a wayside..., which the aspect bore...
My head is wild with weeping for a grief Which is the shadow of a gentle mind. I walk into the air (but no relief To seek, - or haply, if I sought, to find; It came unsought); - to wonder that a chief...
Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia! May I sing to thee As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae? Or may I woo thee In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles...
1. Fairest of the Destinies, Disarray thy dazzling eyes: Keener far thy lightnings are Than the winged [bolts] thou bearest, And the smile thou wearest Wraps thee as a star...