Luck to the craft that bears this name of mine, Good fortune follow with her golden spoon The glazed hat and tarry pantaloon; And wheresoe'er her keel shall cut the brine,...
We held the book together timidly, Whose antique music in an alien tongue Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings' ancient ecstasy,...
The Autumn promised, and he keeps His word unto the meadow-rose. The pure, bright lightnings herald Spring, Serene and glad the fresh earth shows. The rain has quenched her children's thirst,...
Come away, come away, little fly! Don't disturb the sweet calm of love's nest: If you do, I protest you shall die, And your tomb be that beautiful breast.
Nay, more than violets These thoughts of thine, friend! Rather thy reedy brook-- Taw's tributary-- At midnight murmuring, Descried them, the delicate Dark-eyed goddesses,...
Kind Sir, I've read your paper through, And, faith, to me 'twas really new! How guess'd ye, Sir, what maist I wanted? This mony a day I've grain'd and gaunted, To ken what French mischief was brewin';...
Fair Lady! can I sing of flowers That in Madeira bloom and fade, I who ne'er sate within their bowers, Nor through their sunny lawns have strayed? How they in sprightly dance are worn...
Now that my page upcloses, doomed, maybe, Never to press thy cosy cushions more, Or wake thy ready Yeas as heretofore, Or stir thy gentle vows of faith in me:
Thy song has taught my heart to feel Those soothing thoughts of heavenly love, Which o'er the sainted spirits steal When listening to the spheres above!
After venting all my spite, Tell me, what have I to write? Every error I could find Through the mazes of your mind, Have my busy Muse employ'd, Till the company was cloy'd....
Alas! he's cold! Cold as the marble which his fingers wrought - Cold, but not dead; for each embodied thought Of his, which he from the Ideal brought To live in stone, Assures him immortality of fame....
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie! Your impudence protects you sairly: I canna say by ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho' faith, I fear, ye dine but sparely On sic a place. ...