Poet of mighty power, I fain Would court the muse that honoured thee, And, like Elisha's spirit, gain A part of thy intensity; And share the mantle which she flung Around thee, when thy lyre was strung....
O once I had a true love, As blest as I could be: Patty was my turtle dove, And Patty she loved me. We walked the fields together, By roses and woodbine, In Summer's sunshine weather,...
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,...
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;...
How many times Spring blossoms meek Have faded on the land Since last I kissed that pretty cheek, Caressed that happy hand. Eight time the green's been painted white With daisies in the grass...
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...
These children of the sun which summer brings As pastoral minstrels in her merry train Pipe rustic ballads upon busy wings And glad the cotters' quiet toils again....
WILLIAM. When I meet Peggy in my morning walk, She first salutes the morn, then stays to talk: The biggest secret she will not refuse, But freely tells me all the village-news;...
The small wind whispers through the leafless hedge Most sharp and chill, where the light snowy flakes Rest on each twig and spike of wither'd sedge, Resembling scatter'd feathers;--vainly breaks...
Thou Winter, thou art keen, intensely keen; Thy cutting frowns experience bids me know, For in thy weather days and days I've been, As grinning north-winds horribly did blow,...
The holly bush, a sober lump of green, Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown and grey, And smiles at winter be it eer so keen With all the leafy luxury of May. And O it is delicious, when the day...
The yellow lambtoe I have often got, Sweet creeping o'er the banks in summer-time, And totter-grass, in many a trembling knot; And robb'd the molehill of its bed of thyme:...
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,...