The faint sun tipt the rising ground, No blustering wind, the air was still; The blue mist, thinly scatter'd round, Verg'd along the distant hill: Delightful morn! from labour free...
Beyond expression, delicately fine, Beneath her slender fingers swept the sound Of 'witching tones, melodious, divine; Soothing and soft upon the sense they wound, Join'd with the syrens' music, as it were,...
Serene she looks, she wears an angel's form, Her arching eyes are fix'd upon the sky, Gloomy, yet glist'ning 'tween black curls wip'd by, Like a bright rainbow painted on the storm:...
Poets love Nature, and themselves are love. Though scorn of fools, and mock of idle pride. The vile in nature worthless deeds approve, They court the vile and spurn all good beside....
Just as the even-bell rang, we set out To wander the fields and the meadows about; And the first thing we mark'd that was lovely to view, Was the sun hung on nothing, just bidding adieu:...
The rosy day was sweet and young, The clod-brown lark that hail'd the morn Had just her summer anthem sung, And trembling dropped in the corn; The dew-rais'd flower was perk and proud,...
A beautiful flower, that bedeck'd a mean pasture, In virgin perfection I found; Its fair bloom stood naked to every disaster, And deep the storm gather'd around:...
Dropt here and there upon the flower I love the dew to see, For then returns the even's hour That is so dear to me, When silence reigns upon the plain, And night hides all, or nearly;...
Fill the foaming cups again, Let's be merry while we may; Man is foolish to complain When such joys are in his way: Cares may breed in peevish minds, Life at best is short and vain,...
Of all the days in memory's list, Those motley banish'd days; Some overhung with sorrow's mist, Some gilt with hopeful rays; There is a day 'bove all the rest That has a lovely sound,...
On gloomy eve I roam'd about 'Neath Oxey's hazel bowers, While timid hares were darting out, To crop the dewy flowers; And soothing was the scene to me, Right pleased was my soul,...
There was a time, when love's young flowers With many a joy my bosom prest: Sweet hours of bliss!--but short are hours, Those hours are fled--and I'm distrest. I would not wish, in reason's spite;...
The sultry day it wears away, And o'er the distant leas The mist again, in purple stain, Falls moist on flower and trees: His home to find, the weary hind Glad leaves his carts and ploughs;...
Let brutish hearts, as hard as stones, Mock The weak Muse's tender moans, As now she wails o'er Titty's bones With anguish deep; Doubtless o'er parent's dying groans They'd little weep. ...
Ye brown old oaks that spread the silent wood, How soothing sweet your stillness used to be; And still could bless, when wrapt in musing mood, But now confusion suits the best to me....
What wonder strikes the curious, while he views The black ant's city, by a rotten tree, Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse: Pausing, annoyed,--we know not what we see,...
What wonder strikes the curious, while he views The black ant's city, by a rotten tree, Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse: Pausing, annoy'd,--we know not what we see,...
There is a wilder'd spot delights me well, Pent in a corner of my native vale, Where tiny blossoms with a purple bell Shiver their beauties to the autumn-gale. 'Tis one of those mean arbours that prevail...
Timid and smiling, beautiful and shy, She drops her head at every passer bye. Afraid of praise she hurries down the streets And turns away from every smile she meets. The forward clown has many things to say...