#Imagery #RhymedStanza
With many a pause and oft reverted… I climb the Coomb’s ascent: sweet… Warble in shade their wild-wood me… Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soot… Up scour the startling stragglers…
All look and likeness caught from… All accident of kin and birth, Had pass’d away. There was no tra… Of aught on that illumined face, Uprais’d beneath the rifted stone
Near the lone pile with ivy oversp… Fast by the rivulet’s sleep-persua… Where 'sleeps the moonlight’ on yo… O humbly press that consecrated gr… For there does Edmund rest, the l…
Well, they are gone, and here must… This lime—tree bower my prison! I… Beauties and feelings, such as wou… Most sweet to my remembrance even… Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness!…
Stop, Christian passer—by!—Stop,… And read with gentle breast. Bene… A poet lies, or that which once se… O, lift one thought in prayer for… That he who many a year with toil…
Whom should I choose for my Judge… Who, in the work, forgets me and t… Ye who have eyes to detect, and G… Have you the heart, too, that love… What is the meed of thy Song? 'Ti…
When youth his fairy reign began, Ere sorrow had proclaimed me man; While peace the present hour begui… And all the lovely prospect smiled… Then, Mary! 'mid my lightsome gle…
Where graced with many a classic s… Cam rolls his reverend stream alon… I haste to urge the learned toil That sternly chides my love-lorn s… Ah me! too mindful of the days
When British Freedom for an happi… Spread her broad wings, that flutt… Erskine! thy voice she heard, and… Sublime of hope! For dreadless th… (Thy censer glowing with the hallo…
... Finally, what is Reason? You… answer:— Whene’er the mist, that stands 'tw… [Sublimates] to a pure transparenc… That intercepts no light and adds…
Why need I say, Louisa dear! How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fea… And feverish heat incessant.
The Scene a desolate Tract in la… lying on the ground; to her enter… Fam. Sister! sisters! who sent yo… Slau. [to Fire.] I will whisper i… Fire. No! no! no!
Though friendships differ endless… The sorts, methinks, may be reduc… Ac quaintance many, and Con quai… But for In quaintance I know onl… The friend I’ve mourned with, and…
A Conversation Poem, April, 1798 No cloud, no relique of the sunken… Distinguishes the West, no long t… Of sullen light, no obscure trembl… Come, we will rest on this old mos…
The stream with languid murmur cre… In Lumin’s flowery vale: Beneath the dew the Lily weeps Slow-waving to the gale. ‘Cease, restless gale! ’it seems t…