#RhymedStanza
Stand close around, ye Stygian se… With Dirce in one boat conveyed! Or Charon, seeing, may forget That he is old and she a shade.
HOW many verses have I thrown Into the fire because the one Peculiar word, the wanted most, Was irrecoverably lost!
I COME to visit thee agen, My little flowerless cyclamen; To touch the hand, almost to press… That cheer’d thee in thy lonelines… What could thy careful guardian fi…
With much ado you fail to tell The requisites for writing well; But, what bad writing is, you quit… Have proved by every line you writ…
NO, my own love of other years! No, it must never be. Much rests with you that yet endea… Alas! but what with me? Could those bright years o’er me r…
I loved him not; and yet, now he i… I feel I am alone. I check’d him while he spoke; yet,… Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once…
Soon, O Ianthe! life is o’er, And sooner beauty’s heavenly smile… Grant only (and I ask no more), Let love remain that little while.
Proud word you never spoke, but yo… Four not exempt from pride some fu… Resting on one white hand a warm w… Over my open volume you will say, 'This man loved me’—then rise and…
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
Nor empty are the honours that we… To the departed; our own hearts ar… Brimfull with grateful reminiscenc… Compassion is excited; the most st… Relent; and better even the best r…
From you, Ianthe, little troubles… Like little ripples down a sunny r… Your pleasures spring like daisies… Cut down, and up again as blithe a…
IS it not better at an early hour In its calm cell to rest the weary… While birds are singing and while… Than sit the fire out and go starv…
I wander o’er the sandy heath Where the white rush waves high, Where adders close before me wreat… And tawny kites sail screaming by. Alone I wander; I alone
YOU smil’d, you spoke, and I bel… 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…
Friends, whom she lookt at blandly… And her white wrist above it, gem—… Were arguing with Pentheusa: she… Report of Creon’s death, whom yea… She listened to, well—pleas’d; and…