Better trust all, and be deceived, And weep that trust, and that dece… Than doubt one heart, that, if bel… Had blessed one’s life with true b… Oh, in this mocking world, too fas…

All the night long you come to me… My lady dear! Ah, wherefore do yo… Surely it is because you do not kn… What tender mercy from your sweet… When thus you visit me, and for aw…

I hear a voice low in the sunset w… Listen, it says: ‘Decay, decay, d… I hear it in the murmuring of the… And the wind sighs it as it flies… Autumn is come; seest thou not in…

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…

What was thine errand here? Thy beauty was more exquisite than… That from this marrèd earth Takes its imperfect birth. It was a radiant heavenly beauty,…

Time beckons on the hours: the exp… Already feels old Winter’s icy br… As with cold hands he scatters on… The faded glories of her autumn wr… As fleetly as the summer’s sunshin…

Roll not a drum—send not a clarion… Of haughty triumph to the silent s… Hush’d be the shout of joy in ev’r… And veil’d the flash of pride in e… Not with Te Deums loud, and high…

Two angels have them in eternal ke… He that beside the deep vaults of… Stands to receive the treasures, t… And lamentation into them men cast… Forgetting that alone they hold th…

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 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…

Short was the season of our interc… And born, it seem’d, of wayward ac… Yet ne’er before was friendship’s… More sorely needed, or more kindly… The wand’ring winds, that seem no…

Oft let me wander hand in hand wit… In woodland paths, and lone seques… What time the sunny banks and moss… With dewy wreaths of early violets… Into the air their fragrant incens…

THE FIRST SNOW MOUNT… Look, love, to yonder mountain’s b… Seest thou that beckoning hand of… Stern Winter dares no farther com… But waves me towards his northern…

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,