O sweetly wild and 'witching Poesy! Thou light of this world's hermitage I prove thee; And surely none helps loving thee that knows thee, A soul of feeling cannot help but love thee....
Lovely insect, haste away, Greet once more the sunny day; Leave, O leave the murky barn, Ere trapping spiders thee discern; Soon as seen, they will beset Thy golden wings with filmy net,...
O painted clouds ! sweet beauties of the sky, How have I view'd your motion and your rest, When like fleet hunters ye have left mine eye, In your thin gauze of woolly-fleecing drest;...
'Tis sweet to recollect life's past controls, And turn to days of sorrow when they're bye, And think of gentle friends and feeling souls That offered shelter when the storm was high,--...
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;...
Bird of the morn, When roseate clouds begin To show the opening dawn Thou gladly sing'st it in, And o'er the sweet green fields and happy vales Thy pleasant song is heard, mixed with the morning gales....
The World, its hopes and fears, have pass'd away; No more its trifling thou shalt feel or see; Thy hopes are ripening in a brighter day, While these left buds thy monument shall be....
Simple enchantress! wreath'd in summer blooms Of slender bent-stalks topt with feathery down, Heath's creeping vetch, and glaring yellow brooms, With ash-keys wavering on thy rushy crown;...
In Fancy's eye, what an extended span, Time, hoary herald, has been stretch'd by thee: Vain to conceive where thy dark burst began, Thou birthless, boundless, vast immensity!...
Wordsworth I love, his books are like the fields, Not filled with flowers, but works of human kind; The pleasant weed a fragrant pleasure yields, The briar and broomwood shaken by the wind,...
The turkeys wade the close to catch the bees In the old border full of maple trees And often lay away and breed and come And bring a brood of chelping chickens home. The turkey gobbles loud and drops his rag...
The setting Sun withdraws his yellow light, A gloomy staining shadows over all, While the brown beetle, trumpeter of Night, Proclaims his entrance with a droning call....
I met thee like the morning, though more fair, And hopes 'gan travel for a glorious day; And though night met them ere they were aware, Leading the joyous pilgrims all astray,...
I saw her crop a rose Right early in the day, And I went to kiss the place Where she broke the rose away And I saw the patten rings Where she oer the stile had gone, And I love all other things...