My dear Deceased Wife's Sister, - (The wife of my bosom being still happily amongst us, The above, As the learned might say, Is a misnomer. You, on the other hand, Are a Miss - - ,...
When factious rage to cruel exile drove The queen of beauty,[1] and the court of love, The Muses droop'd, with their forsaken arts, And the sad Cupids broke their useless darts:...
I 's feelin' kin' o' lonesome in my little room to-night, An' my min 's done los' de minutes an' de miles, Wile it teks me back a-flyin' to de country of delight, Whaih de Chesapeake goes grumblin' er wid smiles....
Thou fair-haired angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!...
The woods waved welcome in the breeze, When, many years ago, Lured by the songs of birds and bees, I sought the dell below; And there, in that secluded spot, Where silver streamlets roved,...
To-night retir'd the queen of heaven With young Endymion stays: And now to Hesper is it given Awhile to rule the vacant sky, Till she shall to her lamp supply A stream of brighter rays. ...
A little more, a little less!-- O shadow-hunters pitiless, Why then so eager, say! What'er you leave the grave will take, And all you gain and all you make, It will not last a day! ...
And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone, (Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl'd) Still sit as on the fragment of a world; Surviving all, majestic and alone?...
Nurture thyself, O Soul, from the clear spring That wells beneath the secret inner shrine; Commune with its deep murmur, - 'tis divine; Be faithful to the ebb and flow that bring...
Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year, When the prodigious Hannibal did crown His rage, with razing your immortal town. Thou looking then about...
Dear Brindle, - Possibly your name is not Brindle, But that is of no consequence; The great point, my dear Brindle, being That when his Majesty Edward VII. Landed at Flushing the other day...
Welcome, great C'sar, welcome now you are As dearest peace after destructive war: Welcome as slumbers, or as beds of ease After our long and peevish sicknesses. O pomp of glory! Welcome now, and come...
When future ages shall with wonder view These glorious lines which Harley's daughter drew, They shall confess that Britain could not raise A fairer column to the father's praise.
To the leaven'd soil they trod, calling, I sing, for the last; (Not cities, nor man alone, nor war, nor the dead, But forth from my tent emerging for good, loosing, untying the tent-ropes;)...
Ye pretty housewives, would ye know The work that I would put ye to? This, this it should be: for to spin A lawn for me, so fine and thin As it might serve me for my skin....
Thou hast fallen in thine armor, Thou martyr of the Lord With thy last breath crying "Onward!" And thy hand upon the sword. The haughty heart derideth, And the sinful lip reviles,...
Would I could talk as the flowers talk To my soul! and the stars, in their ceaseless walk Through Heaven! and tell to the high and low The things that they say, so all might know...
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor muse can praise too much;...
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor Muse can praise too much....