I can see the back-log blazing and the sparkles take their flight Up the cavernous old chimney on a merry Christmas night; I can see the old folks smiling and the children's cheeks aglow,...
With friends you stalwart stand and fair, To-day of fifty years the heir; The past your works rejoicing praise, But forward goes your gaze. Your childlike faith, your spirit true,...
To seem the stranger lies my lot, my life Among strang'rs. Father and mother dear, Brothers and sisters are in Christ not near And he my peace my parting, sword and strife....
Excuse is needless when with love sincere Of occupation, not by fashion led, Thou turn'st the Wheel that slept with dust o'erspread; 'My' nerves from no such murmur shrink, tho' near,...
Bright baffling Soul, least capturable of themes, Thou, who display'dst a life of common-place, Leaving no intimate word or personal trace Of high design outside the artistry Of thy penned dreams,...
Pardon my trespass, Silvia! I confess My kiss out-went the bounds of shamefacedness: None is discreet at all times; no, not Jove Himself, at one time, can be wise and love.
No more, my Silvia, do I mean to pray For those good days that ne'er will come away. I want belief; O gentle Silvia, be The patient saint, and send up vows for me.
Let us, though late, at last, my Silvia, wed; And loving lie in one devoted bed. Thy watch may stand, my minutes fly post haste; No sound calls back the year that once is past....
Since to the country first I came, I have lost my former flame; And, methinks, I not inherit, As I did, my ravish'd spirit. If I write a verse or two, 'Tis with very much ado;...
Behold; the Balance in the sky Swift on the wintry scale inclines: To earthy caves the Dryads fly, And the bare pastures Pan resigns. Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread...
Far from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake, From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake, Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;...
Once I beheld the fairest of her kind, And still the sweet idea charms my mind: True, she was dumb; for Nature gazed so long, Pleased with her work, that she forgot her tongue;...
Vane, young in yeares, but in sage counsell old, Then whome a better Senatour nere held The helme of Rome, when gownes not armes repelld The feirce Epeirot & the African bold,...
Stand forth, brave man, since fate has made thee here The Hector over aged Exeter, Who for a long, sad time has weeping stood Like a poor lady lost in widowhood, But fears not now to see her safety sold,...