The bird of Fortune sings when free, But captured, soon grows dumb; and we, To hear his fast declining powers, Must soon forget that he is ours. So, when I win that maid, no doubt...
We poets pride ourselves on what We feel, and not what we achieve; The world may call our children fools, Enough for us that we conceive. A little wren that loves the grass Can be as proud as any lark...
Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent: Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas,...
Thou dost not fly, thou art not perched, The air is all around: What is it that can keep thee set, From falling to the ground? The concentration of thy mind Supports thee in the air;...
One night when I went down Thames' side, in London Town, A heap of rags saw I, And sat me down close by. That thing could shout and bawl, But showed no face at all; When any steamer passed...
Those poor, heartbroken wretches, doomed To hear at night the clocks' hard tones; They have no beds to warm their limbs, But with those limbs must warm cold stones;...
How many buds in this warm light Have burst out laughing into leaves! And shall a day like this be gone Before I seek the wood that holds The richest music known?