And can this be my own world? 'Tis all gold and snow, Save where scarlet waves are hurled Down yon gulf below. 'Tis thy world, 'tis my world, City, mead, and shore, For he that hath his own world...
Living child or pictured cherub, Ne'er o'ermatched its baby grace; And the mother, moving nearer, Looked it calmly in the face; Then with slight and quiet gesture,...
They said "Too late, too late, the work is done; Great Homer sang of glory and strong men And that fair Greek whose fault all these long years Wins no forgetfulness nor ever can;...
Laura, my Laura! 'Yes, mother!' 'I want you, Laura; come down.' 'What is it, mother - what, dearest? O your loved face how it pales! You tremble, alas and alas - you heard bad news from the town?'...
She thought by heaven's high wall that she did stray Till she beheld the everlasting gate: And she climbed up to it to long, and wait, Feel with her hands (for it was night), and lay...
Ay, Oliver! I was but seven, and he was eleven; He looked at me pouting and rosy. I blushed where I stood. They had told us to play in the orchard (and I only seven!...
Out of the melancholy that is made Of ebbing sorrow that too slowly ebbs, Comes back a sighing whisper of the reed, A note in new love-pipings on the bough, Grieving with grief till all the full-fed air...
Where do you go, Bob, when you 're fast asleep?' 'Where? O well, once I went into a deep Mine, father told of, and a cross man said He'd make me help to dig, and eat black bread....
Jesus, the Lamb of God, gone forth to heal and bless. Calm lie the desert pools in a fair wilderness; Wind-shaken moves the reed, so moves His voice the soul,...
It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye, All the world and we two, and Heaven be our stay. Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride! All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side. ...
Lying imbedded in the green champaign That gives no shadow to thy silvery face, Open to all the heavens, and all their train, The marshalled clouds that cross with stately pace,...
["Concerning this man (Robert Delacour), little further is known than that he served in the king's army, and was wounded in the battle of Marston Moor, being then about twenty-seven years of age. After the battle of Nazeby, fin...
Now winter past, the white-thorn bower Breaks forth and buds down all the glen; Now spreads the leaf and grows the flower: So grows the life of God, in men. ...
A cottager leaned whispering by her hives, Telling the bees some news, as they lit down, And entered one by one their waxen town. Larks passioning hung o'er their brooding wives,...