There is delight in singing, tho’… Beside the singer; and there is de… In praising, tho’ the praiser sit… And see the prais’d far off him, f… Shakspeare is not our poet, but th…
I STROVE with none, for none wa… Nature I loved and, next to Natur… I warm’d both hands before the fir… It sinks, and I am ready to depar…
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…
Thou hast not rais’d, Ianthe, suc… In any breast as thou hast rais’d… No wandering meteor now, no marshy… Leads on my steps, but lofty, but… And, if thou chillest me, as chill…
Here, where precipitate Spring wi… Into hot Summer’s lusty arms expi… And where go forth at morn, at eve… Soft airs, that want the lute to p… And softer sighs, that know not wh…
In spring and summer winds may blo… And rains fall after, hard and fas… The tender leaves, if beaten low, Shine but the more for shower and… But when their fated hour arrives,
Here, ever since you went abroad, If there be change, no change I s… I only walk our wonted road, The road is only walkt by me. Yes; I forgot; a change there is;
WHERE art thou gone, light-ankle… With wing at either shoulder, And smile that never left thy mout… Until the Hours grew colder: Then somewhat seem’d to whisper ne…
Life (priest and poet say) is but… I wish no happier one than to be l… Beneath a cool syringa’s scented s… Or wavy willow, by the running str… Brimful of moral, where the dragon…
TO turn my volumes o’er nor find (Sweet unsuspicious friend!) Some vestige of an erring mind To chide or discommend, Believe that all were lov’d like y…
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
WHO will away to Athens with me?… Loves choral songs and maidens cro… Unenvious? mount the pinnace; hois… I promise ye, as many as are here, Ye shall not, while ye tarry with…
I LEAVE thee, beauteous Italy!… From the high terraces, at even—ti… To look supine into thy depths of… Thy golden moon between the cliff… Or thy dark spires of fretted cypr…
REMAIN, ah not in youth alone, Though youth, where you are, long… But when my summer days are gone, And my autumnal haste away. “Can I be always by your side?”
Mild is the parting year, and swee… The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its glo…