#RhymedStanza
Is this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song?
Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind doth move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love,
LO! the Bat with leathern wing, Winking and blinking, Winking and blinking, Winking and blinking, Like Dr. Johnson.
The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest… And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower
WHEN silver snow decks Susan’s c… And jewel hangs at th’ shepherd’s… The blushing bank is all my care, With hearth so red, and walls so f… ‘Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it…
O FOR a voice like thunder, and… To drown the throat of war! When… Are shaken, and the soul is driven… Who can stand? When the souls of… Fight in the troubled air that rag…
HOW sweet 1 I roam’d from field… And tasted all the summer’s pride, Till I the Prince of Love beheld Who in the sunny beams did glide! He show’d me lilies for my hair,
My mother bore me in the southern… And I am black, but O! my soul is… White as an angel is the English… But I am black, as if bereav’d of… My mother taught me underneath a t…
To see a World in a Grain of San… And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your… And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
I walked abroad in a snowy day; I asked the soft snow with me to p… She played and she melted in all h… And the winter called it a dreadfu…
GOLDEN APOLLO, that thro’ he… Scatter’st the rays of light, and… In lucent words my darkling verses… And wash my earthy mind in thy cle… That wisdom may descend in fairy d…
PHOEBE drest like beauty’s quee… Jellicoe in faint pea-green, Sitting all beneath a grot, Where the little lambkins trot. Maidens dancing, loves a-sporting,
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
Sound the flute! Now it’s mute. Birds delight Day and night. Nightingale
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush,