When I looked up at my love-birds That Sunday afternoon, There was in their tiny tune A dying fetch like broken words, When I looked up at my love-birds That Sunday afternoon. ...
Thus did the prudent son escape from the hot conversation, But the father continued precisely as he had begun it What is not in a man can never come out of him, surely!...
Then when into the room the well-built son made his entry, Straightway with piercing glances the minister eyed him intently, And with carefulness watch'd his looks and the whole of his bearing,...
"Ne'er have I seen the market and streets so thoroughly empty! Still as the grave is the town, clear'd out! I verily fancy Fifty at most of all our inhabitants still may be found there....
Thus the men discoursed together; and meanwhile the mother Went in search of her son, at first in front of the dwelling On the bench of stone, for he was accustom'd to sit there....
O ye Muses, who gladly favour a love that is heartfelt, Who on his way the excellent youth have hitherto guided, Who have press'd the maid to his bosom before their betrothal,...
As the man on a journey, who, just at the moment of sunset, Fixes his gaze once more on the rapidly vanishing planet, Then on the side of the rocks and in the dark thicket still sees he...
When the pastor ask'd the foreign magistrate questions, What the people had suffer'd, how long from their homes they had wander'd, Then the man replied: "By no means short are our sorrows,...
But the Three, as before, were still sitting and talking together, With the landlord, the worthy divine, and also the druggist, And the conversation still concern'd the same subject,...
Lift up thy lips, turn round, look back for love, Blind love that comes by night and casts out rest; Of all things tired thy lips look weariest, Save the long smile that they are wearied of....
As Seleucus narrates, Hermes describes the principles that rank as wholes in two myriads of books; or, as we are informed by Manetho, he perfectly unfolded these principles in three myriads six thousand five hundred and twenty-...
On a mound an Arab lay, And sung his sweet regrets And told his amulets: The summer bird His sorrow heard, And, when he heaved a sigh profound, The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. ...
She is so winsome and so wise She sways me at her will, And oft the question will arise, What mission does she fill? O then I say with pride untold, And love beyond degree,...
When I seek the world through For images of you, Though apple-blossom is glad And the lily stately-sad, Gilliflowers kind of breath, Rosemary true till death; Though the wind can stir the grass...