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Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupation, That is know as the children's hour.
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key, Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
The Rose did caper on her cheek -- Her Bodice rose and fell -- Her pretty speech -- like drunken men -- Did stagger pitiful...
When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever.
Can it be right to give what I can give? To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years Re-sighing on my lips renunciative Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live For all thy adjurations?
Hail to thee, Cambria!
How Refer the cause?—Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair.
I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms -- It had the Tassels on -- I thought how yellow it would look -- When Richard went to mill -- And then, I wanted to get...
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods, against a stormy sky, Their giant branches tost; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and water o'er, When a band of exiles moored their...
God, if this were enough, That I see things bare to the buff And up to the buttocks in mire; That I ask nor hope nor hire, Nut in the husk, Nor dawn beyond the dusk, Nor life beyond death: God, if this were faith!
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms.
'Twas now the hour when Night had driven Her car half round yon sable heaven; Boötes, only, seem'd to roll His Arctic charge around the Pole; While mortals, lost in gentle sleep, Forgot to smile, or ceas'd to weep: At...
THERE IS NO WORK, NOR DEVICE, NOR KNOWLEDGE, NOR WISDOM, IN THE GRAVE, WHITHER THOU GOEST.--Ecclesiastes.
Swifter far than summer's flight-- Swifter far than youth's delight-- Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone-- As the earth when leaves are dead, As the night when sleep is sped, As the heart when joy is...
[LATIN VERSION OF THE EPITAPH IN GRAY'S ELEGY.] Hic sinu fessum caput hospitali Cespitis dormit juvenis, nec illi Fata ridebant, popularis ille Nescius aurae. Musa non vultu genus arroganti Rustica natum grege despicata, Et suum tristis puerum notavit Sollicitudo.
God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill, He treasures up His bright designs, And works His sovereign will.
When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They sucked the pulp of plum and...
Oh never talk again to me Of northern climes and British ladies; It has not been your lot to see, Like me, the lovely Girl of Cadiz.
FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows Around Eliza’s dwelling; O mem’ry! spare the cruel thoes Within my bosom swelling. Condemn’d to drag a hopeless chain And yet in secret languish; To feel a fire in every vein, Nor dare disclose my anguish.
The serpent is shut out from Paradise. The wounded deer must seek the herb no more In which its heart-cure lies: The widowed dove must cease to haunt a bower Like that from which its mate with feigned sighs Fled in the April hour.
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb!" So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again;"...
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring; The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around To the bells' cheerful sound; While our sports shall be seen On the echoing Green.
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell, The picture of Christ crucified, and tell Whether that countenance can thee affright, Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light, Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell.
In broad daylight, and at noon, Yesterday I saw the moon Sailing high, but faint and white, As a schoolboy's paper kite. In broad daylight, yesterday, I read a poet's mystic lay; And it seemed to me at most As a phantom, or a ghost.