Why cast ye back upon the Gallic shore, Ye furious waves! a patriotic Son Of England, who in hope her coast had won, His project crowned, his pleasant travel o'er?...
Where be the noisy followers of the game Which faction breeds; the turmoil where? that passed Through Europe, echoing from the newsman's blast, And filled our hearts with grief for England's shame....
That flow of gallants which approach To kiss thy hand from out the coach; That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postilion; Those strong-hoof'd mules, which we behold...
Men of the High North, the wild sky is blazing; Islands of opal float on silver seas; Swift splendors kindle, barbaric, amazing; Pale ports of amber, golden argosies....
Little cullud Rastus come a-skippin' down de street, A-smilin' and a-grinnin' at every one he meet; My, oh! He was happy! Boy, but was he gay! Wishin' 'Merry Chris'mus' an' 'Happy New-Year's Day'!...
Grateful is Sleep, my life in stone bound fast; More grateful still: while wrong and shame shall last, On me can Time no happier state bestow Than to be left unconscious of the woe....
Mother of balms and soothings manifold, Quiet-breath'd night whose brooding hours are seven, To whom the voices of all rest are given, And those few stars whose scattered names are told,...
Midsummer night, not dark, not light, Dusk all the scented air, I'll e'en go forth to one I love, And learn how he doth fare. O the ring, the ring, my dear, for me, The ring was a world too fine,...
Through shimmering skies the big clouds slowly sail; A faint breeze lingers in the rustling beech; Atop the withered oak with vagrant speech The brawling crows call down the sleepy vale;...
Mind not tho' daylight around us is breaking,-- Who'd think now of sleeping when morn's but just waking? Sound the merry viol, and daylight or not, Be all for one hour in the gay dance forgot. ...
Portentous change when History can appear As the cool Advocate of foul device; Reckless audacity extol, and jeer At consciences perplexed with scruples nice! They who bewail not, must abhor, the sneer...
Stretched on the dying Mother's lap, lies dead Her new-born Babe; dire ending of bright hope! But Sculpture here, with the divinest scope Of luminous faith, heavenward hath raised that head...
Love, we have heard together The North Sea sing his tune, And felt the wind's wild feather Brush past our cheeks at noon, And seen the cloudy weather Made wondrous with the moon. ...
There was a young person of Bantry, Who frequently slept in the pantry; When disturbed by the mice, She appeased them with rice, That judicious young person of Bantry.
There was an old person of Bromley, Whose ways were not cheerful or comely; He sate in the dust, Eating spiders and crust, That unpleasing old person of Bromley.
There was an old man of Thermopylae, Who never did anything properly; But they said, "If you choose To boil eggs in your shoes, You shall never remain in Thermopylae."
There was an old person of Shields, Who frequented the vallies and fields; All the mice and the cats, And the snakes and the rats, Followed after that person of Shields.
There was an old man of Dunluce, Who went out to sea on a goose: When he'd gone out a mile, He observ'd with a smile, "It is time to return to Dunluce."