'Artemidora! Gods invisible, While thou art lying faint along the couch, Have tied the sandal to thy veined feet, And stand beside thee, ready to convey Thy weary steps where other rivers flow....
Life (priest and poet say) is but a dream; I wish no happier one than to be laid Beneath a cool syringa's scented shade, Or wavy willow, by the running stream, Brimful of moral, where the dragon-fly,...
The fault is not mine if I love you too much, I loved you too little too long, Such ever your graces, your tenderness such, And the music the heart gave the tongue. ...
Rhaicos was born amid the hills wherefrom Gnidos the light of Caria is discern'd And small are the white-crested that play near, And smaller onward are the purple waves....
Now thou art gone, tho' not gone far, It seems that there are worlds between us; Shine here again, thou wandering star! Earth's planet! and return with Venus.
I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I check'd him while he spoke; yet, could he speak, Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought,...
The wisest of the wise Listen to pretty lies And love to hear them told; Doubt not that Solomon Listen'd to many a one, Some in his youth, and more when he grew old.
One day, when I was young, I read About a poet, long since dead, Who fell asleep, as poets do In writing--and make others too. But herein lies the story's gist, How a gay queen came up and kist...
There falls with every wedding chime A feather from the wing of Time. You pick it up, and say 'How fair To look upon its colors are!' Another drops day after day Unheeded; not one word you say....
I held her hand, the pledge of bliss, Her hand that trembled and withdrew; She bent her head before my kiss... My heart was sure that hers was true. Now I have told her I must part,...
When the buds began to burst, Long ago, with Rose the First I was walking; joyous then Far above all other men, Till before us up there stood Britonferry's oaken wood,...
Yes; I write verses now and then, But blunt and flaccid is my pen, No longer talk'd of by young men As rather clever; In the last quarter are my eyes, You see it by their form and size;...
I come to visit thee agen, My little flowerless cyclamen; To touch the hand, almost to press, That cheer'd thee in thy loneliness. What could thy careful guardian find Of thee in form, of me in mind,...
Barry! your spirit long ago Has haunted me; at last I know The heart it sprung from: one more sound Ne'er rested on poetic ground. But, Barry Cornwall! by what right...
Go then to Italy; but mind To leave the pale low France behind; Pass through that country, nor ascend The Rhine, nor over Tyrol wend: Thus all at once shall rise more grand...
You smil'd, you spoke, and I believ'd, By every word and smile deceiv'd. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hop'd before: But let not this last wish be vain; Deceive, deceive me once again!
There is delight in singing, tho' none hear Beside the singer; and there is delight In praising, tho' the praiser sit alone And see the prais'd far off him, far above....