The Gothic looks solemn, The plain Doric column Supports an old Bishop and Crosier; The mouldering arch, Shaded o'er by a larch Stands next door to Wilson the Hosier.
There is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain, Where patriot battle has been fought, where glory had the gain; There is a pleasure on the heath where Druids old have been,...
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:...
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:...
In thy western halls of gold When thou sittest in thy state, Bards, that erst sublimely told Heroic deeds, and sang of fate, With fervour seize their adamantine lyres,...
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;...
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too, Doubled-lived in regions new? Yes, and those of heaven commune With the spheres of sun and moon;...
As Hermes once took to his feathers light When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept, So on a Delphic reed my idle spright So play'd, so charm'd, so conquer'd, so bereft...
Of late two dainties were before me plac'd Sweet, holy, pure, sacred and innocent, From the ninth sphere to me benignly sent That Gods might know my own particular taste:...
Hast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem Pure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain? Bright as the humming-bird's green diadem, When it flutters in sun-beams that shine through a fountain? ...
As I lay in my bed slepe full unmete Was unto me, but why that I ne might Rest I ne wist, for there n'as erthly wight [As I suppose] had more of hertis ese Than I, for I n'ad sicknesse nor disese. - Chaucer...
I had a dove, and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? its feet were tied With a single thread of my own hand's weaving;...
Spirit here that reignest! Spirit here that painest! Spirit here that burneth! Spirit here that mourneth! Spirit! I bow My forehead low, Enshaded with thy pinions! Spirit! I look...
As Hermes once took to his feathers light, When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept, So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright So played, so charmed, so conquered, so bereft...
After dark vapors have oppress'd our plains For a long dreary season, comes a day Born of the gentle South, and clears away From the sick heavens all unseemly stains....
As from the darkening gloom a silver dove Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light, On pinions that nought moves but pure delight, So fled thy soul into the realms above,...
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there Among the bushes half leafless, and dry; The stars look very cold about the sky, And I have many miles on foot to fare....
Oh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, When streams of light pour down the golden west, And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest The silver clouds, far, far away to leave...
Come hither all sweet Maidens soberly Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, And meekly let your fair hands joined be, As if so gentle that ye could not see,...