My Horse's feet beside the lake, Where sweet the unbroken moonbeams lay, Sent echoes through the night to wake, Each glistening strand, each heath-fringed bay.
For him who must see many years, I praise the life which slips away Out of the light and mutely; which avoids Fame, and her less fair followers, envy, strife, Stupid detraction, jealousy, cabal,...
Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat Under the rustling poplars' shade; Silent the swans beside us float None speaks, none heeds, ah, turn thy head. ...
Well hath he done who hath seiz'd happiness. For little do the all-containing Hours, Though opulent, freely give. Who, weighing that life well Fortune presents unpray'd,...
Is it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have loved, to have thought, to have done; To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes; ...
The gods held talk together, group'd in knots, Round Balder's corpse, which they had thither borne; And Hermod came down towards them from the gate. And Lok, the Father of the Serpent, first...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes. The bridge is cross'd, and slow we ride,...
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great winds shoreward blow, Now the salt tides seaward flow; Now the wild white horses play,...
A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of Time; Brimming with wonder and joy He spreads out his arms to the light, Rivets his gaze on the banks of the stream....
Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind? He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men, Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen, And Tmolus hill, and Smyrna bay, though blind. ...
Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind? He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men, Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen, And Tmolus' hill, and Smyrna's bay, though blind....
God knows it, I am with you. If to prize Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few, But priz'd, but lov'd, but eminent in you, Man's fundamental life: if to despise The barren optimistic sophistries...
God knows it, I am with you. If to prize Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few, But priz'd, but lov'd, but eminent in you, Man's fundamental life: if to despise The barren optimistic sophistries...
Yet, when I muse on what life is, I seem Rather to patience prompted, than that prowl Prospect of hope which France proclaims so loud, France, fam'd in all great arts, in none supreme....
Joy comes and goes: hope ebbs and flows, Like the wave. Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of men. Love lends life a little grace, A few sad smiles: and then. Both are laid in one cold place,...
Laugh, my Friends, and without blame Lightly quit what lightly came: Rich to-morrow as to-day Spend as madly as you may. I, with little land to stir, Am the exacter labourer....