I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, “Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world’s release.” Thus he sung all day
“I have no name: I am but two days old.” What shall I call thee? “I happy am, Joy is my name.”
‘O WINTER! bar thine adamantine… The north is thine; there hast tho… Deep-founded habitation. Shake no… Nor bend thy pillars with thine ir… He hears me not, but o’er the yawn…
O AUTUMN, laden with fruit, and… With the blood of the grape, pass… Beneath my shady roof; there thou… And tune thy jolly voice to my fre… And all the daughters of the year…
Whether on Ida’s shady brow, Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the sun, that now From ancient melody have ceas’d; Whether in Heav’n ye wander fair,
Silent, silent Night Quench the holy light Of thy torches bright. For possess’d of Day Thousand spirits stray
Sound the flute! Now it’s mute. Birds delight Day and night. Nightingale
THIS city and this country has b… To sit in state, and give forth la… With face as brown as any nut with… Good English hospitality, O then… With scarlet gowns and broad gold…
Sweet dreams form a shade, O’er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down.
‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, their i… The children walking two and two,… Grey headed beadles walk’d before,… Till into the high dome of Paul’s… Oh what a multitude they seem’d, t…
The modest Rose puts forth a thor… The humble sheep a threat’ning hor… While the Lily white shall in lov… Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her…
WHEN silver snow decks Sylvio’s… And jewel hangs at shepherd’s nose… We can abide life’s pelting storm, That makes our limbs quake, if our… Whilst Virtue is our walking-staf…
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Hear the voice of the Bard! Who Present, Past, and Future, s… Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walk’d among the ancient tree…
JUSTICE hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion’s breast; for Albion’s sins are crimson dy’d, and the red scourge follows her desolate sons. Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise...
