Fast from the west the fading day-… And ebon Night assumes her solemn… Yet here alone, unheeding time, I… And o’er my friend still pour the… Oh! ’tis not long since, George,…

I. 1. Retired, remote from human noise, An humble Poet dwelt serene; His lot was lowly, yet his joys Were manifold, I ween.

When pride and envy, and the scorn Of wealth my heart with gall imbue… I thought how pleasant were the mo… Of silence, in the solitude; To hear the forest bee on wing;

Thou simple Lyre! thy music wild Has served to charm the weary hour… And many a lonely night has 'guile… When even pain has own’d, and smil… Its fascinating power.

Here would I wish to sleep. This… Which I have long mark’d out to l… Tired out and wearied with the rio… Beneath this yew I would be sepul… It is a lovely spot! The sultry s…

Misfortune, I am young, my chin i… And I have wondered much when men… How youth was free from sorrow and… That thou shouldst dwell with me a… Sure dost not like me!-Shrivelled…

Ill-fated maid, in whose unhappy t… Chill poverty and misery are seen, Anguish and discontent, the unhapp… Of life, and blackener of each bri… Why to thy votaries dost thou give…

It is not that my lot is low, That bids this silent tear to flow… It is not grief that bids me moan; It is that I am all alone. In woods and glens I love to roam…

Come, Anna! come, the morning daw… Faint streaks of radiance tinge th… Come, let us seek the dewy lawns, And watch the early lark arise; While nature, clad in vesture gay,

Dear Fanny, I mean, now I’m laid… To give you a sketch-ay, a sketch… ’Tis a pitiful subject, I frankly… And one it would puzzle a painter… But, however, here goes, and as su…

Sublime, emerging from the misty v… Of the horizon dim, thee, Moon, I… As, sweeping o’er the leafless gro… Seems to repeat the year’s funerea… Now Autumn sickens on the languid…

Softly, softly blow, ye breezes, Gently o’er my Edwy fly! Lo! he slumbers, slumbers sweetly; Softly, zephyrs, pass him by! My love is asleep,

PART I. Pictured in memory’s mellowing gla… Our infant days, our infant joys,… To roam in fancy in each cherish’d… The village churchyard, and the vi…

I’ve read, my friend, of Dioclesi… And many another noble Grecian, Who wealth and palaces resigned, In cots the joys of peace to find; Maximian’s meal of turnip-tops

The western gale, Mild as the kisses of connubial lo… Plays round my languid limbs, as a… Beneath the ancient elm’s fantasti… I lie, exhausted with the noontide…