She is not fair, as some are fair, Cold as the snow, as sunshine gay: On her clear brow, come grief what may, She suffers not too stern an air; But, grave in silence, sweet in speech,...
I cannot raise my eyelids up from sleep, But I am visited with thoughts of you; Slumber has no refreshment half so deep As the sweet morn, that wakes my heart anew. ...
O Summer sun, O moving trees! O cheerful human noise, O busy glittering street! What hour shall Fate in all the future find, Or what delights, ever to equal these:...
When life begins anew, And Youth, from gathering flowers, From vague delights, rapt musings, twilight hours, Turns restless, seeking some great deed to do, To sum his foster'd dreams; when that fresh birth...