"The night wind is moaning with mournful sigh, "There gleameth no moon in the misty sky "No star over Helle's sea; "Yet, yet, there is shining one holy light, "One love-kindled star thro' the deep of night,...
See you the towers, that, gray and old, Frown through the sunlight's liquid gold, Steep sternly fronting steep? The Hellespont beneath them swells, And roaring cleaves the Dardanelles,...
It is not with a hope my feeble praise Can add one moment's honor to thy own, That with thy mighty name I grace these lays; I seek to glorify myself alone: For that some precious favor thou hast shown...
In rich Virginian woods, The scarlet creeper reddens over graves, Among the solemn trees enlooped with vines; Heroic spirits haunt the solitudes, - The noble souls of half a million braves,...
To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend, To welcome home mankind's mysterious friend Wine, true begetter of all arts that be; Wine, privilege of the completely free;...
And now 'tis time; for their officious haste, Who would before have borne him to the sky, Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, Did let too soon the sacred eagle[1] fly. ...
Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, Sugar spends to fatten slaves, Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, Lightning-knotted round his head;...
There was a time when 'tna's silent fire Slept unperceived, the mountain yet entire; When, conscious of no danger from below, She tower'd a cloud-capt pyramid of snow....
Her only pilot the soft breeze, the boat Lingers, but Fancy is well satisfied; With keen-eyed Hope, with Memory, at her side, And the glad Muse at liberty to note All that to each is precious, as we float...
The beauty and the life Of life's and beauty's fairest paragon O tears! O grief! hung at a feeble thread To which pale Atropos had set her knife; The soul with many a groan Had left each outward part,...
Must I believe this beauty wholly gone That in her picture here so deathless seems, And must I henceforth speak of her as one Tells of some face of legend or of dreams,...
She is foremost of those that I would hear praised. I have gone about the house, gone up and down As a man does who has published a new book Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown,...
Low in the ivy-covered church she kneeled, The sunshine falling on her golden hair; The moaning of a soul with hurt unhealed Was her low-breathed and broken cry of prayer. ...
Con the dead page as 'twere live love: press on! Cold wisdom's words will ease thy track for thee; Aye, go; cast off sweet ways, and leave me wan To biting blasts that are intent on me. ...
The publisher's freak, by which Herrick's three chief Fairy poems ("The Fairy Temple; or, Oberon's Chapel," "Oberon's Feast," and "Oberon's Palace") are separated from each other, is greatly to be regretted. The last two, both ...
As Nancy at her toilette sat, Admiring this, and blaming that, Tell me, she said, but tell me true, The nymph who could your heart subdue. What sort of charms does she possess?...
Herr Weiser! Three-score-years-and-ten, A hale white rose of his country-men, Transplanted here in the Hoosier loam, And blossomy as his German home - As blossomy and as pure and sweet...