“I JEALOUS? Pooh!—Doth not… Pursue his vessel o’er the billows… No, jealous, no!—From whence thos… —'Tis but the wind among the willo… “Ha, jealous, ha!—Did darling spe…

DON’T spur us so: you’ll ever fi… When you will ride at giddy paces There’s always something in the wi… At which ere long you’ll twist you… What, we’re but steeds whom no one…

(Suggested by an old verse.) THRO’ the dark and dreary night, Golden slumbers kiss thine eyes; Sleep, and in the early light With a golden smile arise!

LO the day begins to rise, And the shadows of the night, Overtaken with surprise, Blushing fly his presence bright; Cease thy briny tears to flow,

TRUTH’S words are oft so very t… And always when my lips he uses, His foes, which let us hope, are f… Declare he but the truth abuses. Thus when he spake of Ella’s tong…

A CLOUD the valley domes, and d… Yon erewhile sun-lit mountain stea… And bit by bit, with one black fro… The green and gold below concealed… Down, down it comes, and pain me n…

(The first two lines are old.) HEY Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady doth? Is she laughing, is she sobbing Is she gay, or grave, or both?

AIR—'Rossen the Beau.’ COME fill up the glass, and tho’… We tasted of gladness before, The thought of this moment for eve… Shall gladden the heart to its cor…

AWAY with the muses of frolic!—a… With the haunts of diversion and f… Ay, mine be the joy to awaken a la… And to weave for misfortune a garl… We shrink at life’s shadows and fl…

‘I HATE outlandish things, and o… I’ve little liking for the sonnet; ’Tis for a lazy Muse, and one Who hath a bumler in her bonnet. ‘Tis a humdrum song, and tho’ not…

TRIUMPHANT o’er trouble, triu… Triumphant o’er all and thro’ all… With the cry "Iö Pæan!" and Echo… From her cave "Iö Pæan!" enraptur… The storm may set in and the summe…

A SYREN, with her mirror bright… His ear enchants; and while he lis… His image on his dazzled sight, A very jewel gleams and glistens. Ah, could he peer into yon brook,

OH, what is Life? A magic nigh… In which we still to phantoms yiel… And what is Death, if not the lig… By which the real truth’s reveal’d…

Too lovely art thou to behold, And not to be stung by desire, To bathe in those ringlets of gold… To bathe in those glances of fire. Too lovely art thou to the ken,

AH me, my heart is like to break, The envied rose upon my cheek, The blood red rose is cold and ble… Since he has slighted me. A very shadow lone and pale,