I was angry with my friend. I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe. I told it not, my wrath did grow; And I water’d it in fears,
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight,
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Prudence is...
Three Virgins at the break of day… `Whither, young man, whither away Alas for woe! alas for woe!' They cry, and tears for ever flow. The one was cloth’d in flames of f…
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave:
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?
LITTLE PHOEBUS came struttin… With his fat belly and his round c… What is it you would please to hav… Ho! Ho! I won’t let it go at only so and s…
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, their i… The children walking two and two,… Grey headed beadles walk’d before,… Till into the high dome of Paul’s… Oh what a multitude they seem’d, t…
HEAR then the pride and knowledg… His sprit sail, fore sail, main sa… A poor frail man—God wot! I know… I know no greater sinner than Joh…
THOU fair-hair’d angel of the ev… Now, whilst the sun rests on the m… Thy bright torch of love; thy radi… Put on, and smile upon our evening… Smile on our loves, and while thou…
Sweet dreams form a shade, O’er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down.
I wander thro’ each charter’d stre… Near where the charter’d Thames d… And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man,
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,
THE VEILED Evening walked solitary down the western hills, and Silence reposed in the valley; the birds of day were heard in their nests, rustling in brakes and thickets; and the owl an...