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Through those old Grounds of memory, The sauntering alone Is a divine intemperance A prudent man would shun. Of liquors that are vended 'Tis easy...
Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven, To whom alone it has been given To change and be adored for ever, Envy not this dim world, for never But once within its shadow grew One fair as--
IN THIS BOOK A TRAVELLER HAD WRITTEN:-- "Fair Albion, smiling, sees her son depart To trace the birth and nursery of art: Noble his object, glorious is his aim; He comes to Athens, and he--writes his name." BENEATH WHICH LORD...
Follow a shadow, it still flies you; Seem to fly it, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say, are not women truly then Styled but the shadows of us men?
His Heart was darker than the starless night For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it -- How still -- That last Day that I was a Life I recollect...
Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses -- Tenderly tucking them in from frost Before their feet are cold. Never the treasures...
THE angler rose, he took his rod, He kneeled and made his prayers to God. The living God sat overhead: The angler tripped, the eels...
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream, Through the dim wildernesses of the mind; Through desert woods and tracts, which seem Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
Nobly, nobly, Cape Saint Vincent to the Northwest died away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest Northeast distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray; "Here...
'Twas later when the summer went Than when the Cricket came -- And yet we knew that gentle Clock Meant nought but Going Home --...
There is a voice, not understood by all, Sent from these desert-caves. It is the roar Of the rent ice-cliff which the sunbeams call, Plunging into the vale--it is the blast Descending on the pines--the torrents pour...
Time wears her not; she doth his chariot guide; Mortality below her orb is placed. --Raleigh The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray Mounts up the eastern sky, Not doomed to these short nights for aye, But shining steadily.
Ill-fated Heart! and can it be, That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain? Have years of care for thine and thee Alike been all employed in vain?
When I compare What I have lost with what I have gained, What I have missed with what attained, Little room do I find for pride. I am aware How many days have been idly spent; How like an arrow...
Did Our Best Moment last -- 'Twould supersede the Heaven -- A few -- and they by Risk -- procure -- So this Sort --...
Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas -- Just at noon -- no later -- Sweet -- Then -- the License closes -- Some...
I know a place where Summer strives With such a practised Frost -- She -- each year -- leads her Daisies back -- Recording briefly...
The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves Her unintending Eyes -- Took her own Heart, including ours, By innocent Surprise -- The wrestle in her...
She rose as high as His Occasion Then sought the Dust -- And lower lay in low Westminster For Her brief Crest --
Her spirit rose to such a height Her countenance it did inflate Like one that fed on awe. More prudent to assault the dawn Than...
Did life's penurious length Italicize its sweetness, The men that daily live Would stand so deep in joy That it would clog the cogs Of...
Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen -- A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs -- between -- For Stranger...
A full fed Rose on meals of Tint A Dinner for a Bee In process of the Noon became - Each bright Mortality The Forfeit...