What art thou, Mighty One! and wh… Thou broodest on the calm that che… And thou dost bear within thine aw… The rolling thunders and the light… Stern on thy dark-wrought car of c…

The morning sun’s enchanting rays Now call forth every songster’s pr… Now the lark, with upward flight, Gaily ushers in the light; While wildly warbling from each tr…

God help thee, Traveller, on thy… The wind is bitter keen, - the sno… The hidden pits, and dangerous hol… And darkness will involve thee. -… To-night will guide thee, Travell…

Go to the raging sea, and say, ‘B… Bid the wild lawless winds obey th… Preach to the storm, and reason wi… But tell not Misery’s son that li… Thou, who in Plenty’s lavish lap…

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…

O Lord, my God, in mercy turn, In mercy hear a sinner mourn! To thee I call, to thee I cry, O leave me, leave me not to die! I strove against thee, Lord, I kn…

I. 1. Many there be, who, through the va… With velvet pace, unnoticed, softl… While jarring discord’s inharmonio… Awakes them not to woe.

Sweet scented flower! who art wont… On January’s front severe, And o’er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay n…

Mild orb, who floatest through the… A pathless wanderer o’er a lonely… Welcome to me thy soft and pensive… Which oft in childhood my lone tho… Now doubly dear as o’er my silent…

When the winter wind whistles alon… And the cottager shuts on the begg… When the chilling tear stands in m… Oh, how hard is the lot of the Wa… The winter is cold, and I have no…

Ye unseen spirits, whose wild melo… At evening rising slow, yet sweetl… Steal on the musing poet’s pensive… As by the wood-spring stretch’d su… When he, who now invokes you, low…

Why should I blush to own I love? ’Tis Love that rules the realms a… Why should I blush to say to all, That Virtue holds my heart in thr… Why should I seek the thickest sh…

Quick o’er the wintry waste dart f… Bleak blows the blast-now howls—th… And oft upon its awful wings it wa… The dying wanderer’s distant, feeb… Now, when athwart the gloom gaunt…

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…

Maiden! wrap thy mantle round thee… Cold the rain beats on thy breast: Why should Horror’s voice astound… Death can bid the wretched rest! All under the tree