WRITTEN FOR THE 22 OF AU… Darkness upon the mountain and the… Forest and field are bathed in dew… And the night angels vigil o’er th… No sound, no motion; over hill and…

There’s not a fibre in my tremblin… That does not vibrate when thy ste… There’s not a pulse that throbs no… Thy voice, thy breathing, nay thy… When thou art with me every sense…

WHO WROTE UNDER MY L… Whence should they come, lady! tho… That thy fair hand and gentle hear… Upon my head? Alas! such do not r… On any, of the many, who with sigh…

Walking by moonlight on the golden… That binds the silver sea, I fell… Of all the wild imaginings that ma… Hath peopled heaven, and earth, an… Making fair nature’s solitary haun…

I know a maiden with a laughing fa… And springing feet like wings;—the… Forth from the radiant dancing of… Is full of mischievous and mirthfu… I know a maiden you might scarce t…

Dear, yet forbidden thoughts, that… While shines the weary sun, with s… I drive away; why, when my spirits… Shrouded in the cold sleep of mise… Do ye return, to mock me with fals…

When the bright sun back on his ye… Comes towards us, his great glory… As from the sky he pours it all ab… A golden herald, my beloved, of th… When from the south the gentle win…

One river from the mountain spring… Into three several streams its cou… For one a royal path was made; it… Sheltered and screened, through ch… A noble flood, a bounteous, beaute…

Oh make not light of love, my lady… For, from that sweetest source dot… All that is likest heaven on earth… Ill it beseems who worthiest love… To scoff at their own worship;—if…

If I believed in death, how sweet… For such a blessed slumber could… Beneath the blue and sparkling cov… Of that smooth sea, stirred by no… Oh if I could but die, and be at…

Struggle not with thy life!—the he… Resist not, it will bow thee like… Strive not! thou shalt not conquer… Thou shalt go crushed, and ground,… Complain not of thy life!—for what…

Say thou not sadly, ‘never,’ and ‘… But from thy lips banish those fal… While life remains that which was… Again may be thine; in Time’s sto… Days, hours, and moments, that hav…

Is it a sin, to wish that I may m… In that dim world whither our spir… When sleep and darkness follow lif… Is it a sin, that there my voice s… With all that love that I must di…

Mother, mother! my heart is wild, Hold me upon your bosom dear, Do not frown on your own poor chil… Death is darkly drawing near. Mother, mother! the bitter shame

I look along the dusty dreary way, So lately strew’d with blossoms fr… The sweet procession of the year i… And wither’d whirling leaves run r… Like throngs of tatter’d beggars f…