I thought those youthful hearts were bleak and bare, That not a germ had ever flourished there, Unless perchance the night-shade of despair, Which blooms amid the sunless wilderness. ...
The hours are past, love, Oh, fled they not too fast, love! Those happy hours, when down the mountain side, We saw the rosy mists of morning glide, And, hand in hand, went forth upon our way,...
Were they but dreams? Upon the darkening world Evening comes down, the wings of fire are furled, On which the day soared to the sunny west: The moon sits calmly, like a soul at rest,...
When first the fane, that, white, on Kingswood-Pen, Arrests, far off, the pausing stranger's ken, Echoed the hymn of praise, and on that day, Which seemed to shine with more auspicious ray,...
To a good Man of most dear memory This Stone is sacred. Here he lies apart From the great city where he first drew breath, Was reared and taught; and humbly earned his bread,...
So the days of my tramping are over, And the days of my riding are done, I'm about as content as a rover Will ever be under the sun; I write, after reading your letter, My pipe with old memories rife,...
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs, And my step falters on the faithless floor, Shades of departed joys around me rise, With many a face that smiles on me no more;...
Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;-- Besides, you need not be alone; the soul Shall have society of its own rank. Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome,...
Great and omnipotent that Power must be, That wings the whirlwind and directs the storm, That, by a strong convulsion, severed thee, And wrought this wondrous chasm in thy form. ...
Oft have I caught, upon a fitful breeze, Fragments of far-off melodies, With ear not coveting the whole, A part so charmed the pensive soul. While a dark storm before my sight...
Stay yet awhile, oh flowers!--oh wandering grasses, And creeping ferns, and climbing, clinging vines;-- Bend down and cover with lush odorous masses My darling's couch, where he in sleep reclines. ...
Peruse my leaves thro' ev'ry part, And think thou seest my owner's heart, Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite As hard, as senseless, and as light; Expos'd to ev'ry coxcomb's eyes,...
Grant me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may live To see the miscreants feel the pains they give, Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air, Till slave and despot be but things which were.
Judge we of coming, by the by-past, years, And still can Hope, the siren, soothe our fears? Cheated, deceived, our cherished day-dreams o'er, We cling the closer, and we trust the more....