And doth not a meeting like this make amends, For all the long years I've been wandering away-- To see thus around me my youth's early friends, As smiling and kind as in that happy day?...
Loud complaints being made in these quick-reading times, Of too slack a supply both of prose works and rhymes, A new Company, formed on the keep-moving plan, First proposed by the great firm of Catch-'em-who-can,...
When erst, my Southey, thy tuneful tongue The terrible tale of Thalaba sung-- Of him, the Destroyer, doomed to rout That grim divan of conjurors out, Whose dwelling dark, as legends say,...
Ask not if still I love, Too plain these eyes have told thee; Too well their tears must prove How near and dear I hold thee. If, where the brightest shine, To see no form but thine,...
At night, when all is still around. How sweet to hear the distant sound Of footstep, coming soft and light! What pleasure in the anxious beat, With which the bosom flies to meet...
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air,...
Come not, oh LORD, in the dread robe of splendor Thou worest on the Mount, in the day of thine ire; Come veiled in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender, Which Mercy flings over thy features of fire! ...
'Twas a new feeling--something more Than we had dared to own before. Which then we hid not; We saw it in each other's eye, And wished, in every half-breathed sigh, To speak, but did not. ...
"I want the Court Guide," said my lady, "to look "If the House, Seymour Place, be at 30. or 20."-- "We've lost the Court Guide, Ma'am, but here's the Red Book....
Fear not that, while around thee Life's varied blessings pour, One sigh of hers shall wound thee, Whose smile thou seek'st no more. No, dead and cold for ever Let our past love remain;...
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour, When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon....
Forget not the field where they perished, The truest, the last of the brave, All gone--and the bright hope we cherished Gone with them, and quenched in their grave!
Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber-- Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number. Of Pain's bitter draught the flavor ne'er flies, While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies....
It glads us much to be able to say, That a meeting is fixt for some early day, Of all such dowagers--he or she-- (No matter the sex, so they dowagers be,) Whose opinions concerning Church and State...