Away, those cloudy looks, that lab… The peevish offspring of a sickly… Nor meanly thus complain of fortun… When the blind gamester throws a l… Yon setting sun flashes a mournful…
I know ‘tis but a Dream, yet feel… Than if ’twere Truth. It has been… Must I die under it? Is no one ne… Will no one hear these stifled gro…
This day among the faithful placed… And fed with fontal manna, O with maternal title graced Dear Anna’s dearest Anna!— While others wish thee wise and fa…
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave? I said, you had no soul, ‘tis true… For what you are, you cannot have: ’Tis I, that have one since I fir… I have heard of reasons manifold
A blessed lot hath he, who having… His youth and early manhood in the… And turmoil of the world, retreats… With cares that move, not agitate… To the same dwelling where his fat…
All Nature seems at work. Slugs l… The bees are stirring—birds are on… And Winter slumbering in the open… Wears on his smiling face a dream… And I the while, the sole unbusy…
Sweet Mercy! how my very heart ha… To see thee, poor old man! and thy… Hoar with the snowy blast; while n… To clothe thy shrivelled limbs and… My Father! throw away this tatter…
Beneath the blaze of a tropical su… Frost, through the absence of obje… with us shares, seems scarce our o… The best belov’d, who loveth me th… is for the heart, what the support…
From a letter from STC to Wordsw… In stale blank verse a subject sta… I send per post my Nightingale; And like an honest bard, dear Wor… You’ll tell me what you think, my…
Unchanged within, to see all chang… Is a blank lot and hard to bear, n… Yet why at others’ Wanings should… Then only might’st thou feel a jus… Hadst thou withheld thy love or hi…
With many a pause and oft reverted… I climb the Coomb’s ascent: sweet… Warble in shade their wild-wood me… Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soot… Up scour the startling stragglers…
Come hither, gently rowing, Come, bear me quickly o’er This stream so brightly flowing To yonder woodland shore. But vain were my endeavour
The stream with languid murmur cre… In Lumin’s flowery vale: Beneath the dew the Lily weeps Slow-waving to the gale. ‘Cease, restless gale! ’it seems t…
It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glitte… Now wherefore stopp’st thou me? The Bridegroom’s doors are opened…
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur… Where may the grave of that good m… By the side of a spring, on the br… Under the twigs of a young birch t… The oak that in summer was sweet t…