Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how I wake and passionate watches keep; And yet while I address thee now, Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep. 'Tis sweet enough to make me weep,...
The stars are with the voyager Wherever he may sail; The moon is constant to her time; The sun will never fail; But follow, follow round the world, The green earth and the sea,...
By ev'ry sweet tradition of true hearts, Graven by Time, in love with his own lore; By all old martyrdoms and antique smarts, Wherein Love died to be alive the more; Yea, by the sad impression on the shore,...
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; That sometime these bright stars, that now reply In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;...
No popular respect will I omit To do thee honor on this happy day, When every loyal lover tasks his wit His simple truth in studious rhymes to pay, And to his mistress dear his hopes convey....
Look how the golden ocean shines above Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth; So does the bright and blessed light of Love Its own things glorify, and raise their worth....
There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave - under the deep deep sea, Or in wide desert where no life is found,...
Young ardent soul, graced with fair Nature's truth, Spring warmth of heart, and fervency of mind, And still a large late love of all thy kind. Spite of the world's cold practice and Time's tooth, -...
The curse of Adam, the old curse of all, Though I inherit in this feverish life Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and hard strife, And fruitless thought, in Care's eternal thrall,...
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love, That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife, Thou darest menace my unit of a life, Sending my clay below, my soul above,...
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled! Hues of all flow'rs, that in their ashes lie, Trophied in that fair light whereon they fed, -...
I saw pale Dian, sitting by the brink Of silver falls, the overflow of fountains From cloudy steeps; and I grew sad to think Endymion's foot was silent on those mountains....
Still glides the gentle streamlet on, With shifting current new and strange; The water that was here is gone, But those green shadows do not change. ...
My pipe is lit, my grog is mix'd, My curtains drawn and all is snug; Old Puss is in her elbow-chair, And Tray is sitting on the rug. Last night I had a curious dream,...