#RhymedStanza
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…
[PLATE 3] The Guardian Prince of Albion bu… Sullen fires across the Atlantic… Piercing the souls of warlike men,… Washington, Franklin, Paine & Wa…
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,
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…
He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy He who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sunrise
O THOU with dewy locks, who look… Thro’ the clear windows of the mor… Thine angel eyes upon our western… Which in full choir hails thy appr… The hills tell each other, and the…
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies
THIS city and this country has b… To sit in state, and give forth la… With face as brown as any nut with… Good English hospitality, O then… With scarlet gowns and broad gold…
I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green… And the gates of this Chapel were…
Memory, hither come, And tune your merry notes; And, while upon the wind Your music floats, I’ll pore upon the stream
The modest Rose puts forth a thor… The humble sheep a threat’ning hor… While the Lily white shall in lov… Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her…
Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I
Ah! sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun, Seeking after that sweet golden cl… Where the traveller’s journey is d… Where the youth pined away with de…
When my mother died I was very yo… And my father sold me while yet my… Could scarcely cry “ ‘weep! ’weep!… So your chimneys I sweep & in soo… There’s little Tom Dacre, who cri…
SAMSON, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman’s arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turn...