Why, Solitude, why hath the minst… The festive repast of the fair and… Why leaves he the city, The wise and the witty, To roam thro’ the woods in communi…

O! why should we bewail the dead, Why sorrow o’er their narrow bed? Have they not sought the happy sho… Where human cares oppress no more? Bewail them not!-more blest than w…

A traveller on a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea; And one took root and sprouted up, And grew into a tree. Love sought its shade at evening-t…

Light is love without esteem. Lighter than a feather, But ours has borne Contempt and scorn, And sorrow’s wintry weather!

When your rights are destroyed, an… When your kings and your princes t… O! shall it be said that no vengea… The land of the Oder, the Elbe, a… O! shall it be said that the Germ…

Far from bustle, strife, and care, ‘Mong the woods I’ve wooed her. And to her secluded nook, By the margin of a brook, And by waters bright and blue,

Why, O wind of summer. Why that restless moan? Weepest thou for pleasures That are past and gone? Mournest thou for visions

Let others chase the timid deer O’er field or level moor, We’ve a braver sport, and a nobler… To chase the mighty boar. Through forest dark, and tangled w…

In valleys where the white man’s f… Ne’er treads the early dew, By mighty streams, whose waters de… Ne’er bear his light canoe; In wild woods, where the settler’s…

He carved his name upon the tree, Ere he hied him o’er the billow, A token of love and memory On that lone drooping willow; And bade me come at twilight dim,

I have lived and I have loved; I have waked and I have slept; I have sung and I have danced; I have smiled and I have wept; I have won and wasted treasure;

The man is thought a knave, or foo… Or bigot, plotting crime, Who, for the advancement of his ki… Is wiser than his time. For him the hemlock shall distil;

By the red lightning rent and rive… And stretched along the plain, Can the tall oak extend to heaven Its gay green boughs again? Or when a star hath lost its track…

Dense on the stream the vapours la… Thick as wool on the cold highway; Spongy and dim, each lonely lamp Shone o’er the streets so dull and… The moonbeam could not pierce the…