Arise, my Isabel, arise! The sun shoots forth his early ray, The hue of love is in the skies, The birds are singing, come away! O come, my Isabella, come, With inky tendrils hanging low;...
Dark creeping Ivy, with thy berries brown, That fondly twists' on ruins all thine own, Old spire-points studding with a leafy crown Which every minute threatens to dethrone;...
And what is Life?--An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still repeated dream; Its length?--A minute's pause, a moment's thought;...
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still repeated dream; Its length?--A minute's pause, a moment's thought;...
Checq'd Autumn, doubly sweet is thy declining, To meditate within this 'wilder'd shade; To view the wood in its pied lustre shining, And catch thy varied beauties as they fade;...
Autumn, I love thy parting look to view In cold November's day, so bleak and bare, When, thy life's dwindled thread worn nearly thro', With ling'ring, pott'ring pace, and head bleach'd bare,...