Wand’ring with thee in the delicio… What visions meet me of those far-… When all my youth’s fresh springs… Lay lock’d beneath the spell of th… Whose blood is in thy veins.—I ga…

Could I be sure that I should die The moment you had ceased to love… I would not turn so fearfully From those fond vows with which yo… Could I be sure, when passion’s l…

Early in life, when hope seems pro… And strong desire can sometimes mo… My dream was of thy shores, O Ita… Of thy blue deep, that even for a… Will not forsake its spicy pine-gi…

Shelter and succour such as common… Afford the weaker partners of thei… Have I derived from thee’from the… And powerful genius! whose sublime… Still from thy grave governs each…

Hail to thee, spirit of hope! whom… Youngest and fairest of the four,… Our mortal year along Time’s rapi… Spirit of life! the old decrepit e… Has heard thy voice, and at a wond…

And I Am reading, too, my book of memory… With eyelids closed, over the cres… And the blue, marbled sea, I seek… All present things forgotten, on t…

Like one who walketh in a plenteou… By flowing waters, under shady tre… Through sunny meadows, where the s… Feed in the thyme and clover; on e… Fair gardens lying, where of fruit…

Three windows cheerfully poured in… One from the east, where o’er the… The sun first rose on the great R… And shining o’er the garden, with… Vine-trellises, and heaps of rosy…

WRITTEN AT OATLANDS. I SHALL come no more to the Ced… The fairies’ palace, beside the st… Where the yellow sun-rays at morni… Through their tresses dark, with a…

Where is thy home in thy promised… Desolate and forsaken! The stranger’s arm hath seized thy… Thou art bowed beneath the strange… And the stranger thy birthright ha…

Oh that I were a fairy sprite, to… In forest paths, o’erarched with o… Where the sun’s yellow light, in s… Sleeps on the dewy moss: what time… Of early morn stirs the white hawt…

SUGGESTED BY SIR THO… Not in our dreams, not even in our… Not in our dreams, not even in our… May we return to that sweet land o… That home of hope, of innocence, a…

I saw him on his throne, far in th… Him ye call Winter, picturing him… An aged man, whose frame, with pal… Bends o’er the fiery element, his… But he I saw was a young god, who…

It is the dawn! the rosy day awake… From her bright hair pale showers… And through the heavens her early… Why art thou sleeping! It is the noon! the sun looks laug…

False Love, take hence thy roses, Give me the bitter Rue That on my heart reposes, Sorrow at least is true. Maiden so fair and pale,