Driftwood gathered here and there Along the beach of time; Now and then a chip of truth 'Mid boards and boughs of rhyme; Driftwood gathered day by day,--...
Live, live with me, and thou shalt see The pleasures I'll prepare for thee: What sweets the country can afford Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board. The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,...
"Gentle, modest little flower, Sweet epitome of May, Love me but for half an hour, Love me, love me, little fay." Sentences so fiercely flaming In your tiny shell-like ear,...
O! fair, sweet Phyllis and sweet, fair May, Which of you carried my heart away? Who has my heart? I would like to know Which was the guilty one of the two, But I only know it was filched one day...
Come, Phyllis, I've a cask of wine That fairly reeks with precious juices, And in your tresses you shall twine The loveliest flowers this vale produces.
Sweet Phyllis, I have here a jar of old and precious wine, The years which mark its coming from the Alban hills are nine, And in the garden parsley, too, for wreathing garlands fair,...
Failing sometimes to understand Why there are folk whose flesh should seem Like carrion puffed with noisome steam, Fly-blown to the eye that looks on it, Fly-blown to the touch of a hand;...
The cannon's brazen lips are cold; No red shell blazes down the air; And street and tower, and temple old, Are silent as despair. The Lombard stands no more at bay,...
O sweetly wild and 'witching Poesy! Thou light of this world's hermitage I prove thee; And surely none helps loving thee that knows thee, A soul of feeling cannot help but love thee....
Pompey, what fortune gives you back To the friends and the gods who love you? Once more you stand in your native land, With your native sky above you. Ah, side by side, in years agone,...
Indeed I live in the dark ages! A guileless word is an absurdity. A smooth forehead betokens A hard heart. He who laughs Has not yet heard The terrible tidings.
When you and I were younger the world was passing fair; Our days were sped with laughter, our steps were free as air; Life lightly lured us onward, and ceased not to unroll...
O Postumus, my Postumus, the years are gliding past, And piety will never check the wrinkles coming fast, The ravages of time old age's swift advance has made,...
Why do ye weep, sweet babes? can tears Speak grief in you, Who were but born just as the modest morn Teem'd her refreshing dew? Alas, you have not known that shower That mars a flower,...
What fate decreed, time now has made us see, A renovation of the west by thee. That preternatural fever, which did threat Death to our country, now hath lost his heat,...