The butterfly the ancient Grecian… The soul’s fair emblem, and its on… But of the soul, escaped the slavi… Of mortal life!—For in this earth… Ours is the reptile’s lot, much to…
Thou gentle Look, that didst my s… Why hast thou left me? Still in s… Revisit my sad heart, auspicious… As falls on closing flowers the lu… What time, in sickly mood, at part…
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philom… How many Bards in city garret pen… While at their window they with do… Mark the faint lamp-beam on the ke… And listen to the drowsy cry of W…
Sad lot, to have no Hope! Though… He fain would frame a prayer withi… Would fain entreat for some sweet… That his sick body might have ease… He strove in vain! the dull sighs…
Underneath an old oak tree There was of swine a huge company That grunted as they crunched the… For that was ripe, and fell full f… Then they trotted away, for the wi…
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…
Song (Act II, Scene I, lines 65-80) A sunny shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted: And poised therein a bird so bold—
Ter. But that entrance, Selma? Sel. Can no one hear? It is a per… Ter. No one. Sel. My husband’s father told it… Poor old Sesina—angels rest his s…
Oh! not by Cam or Isis, famous st… In arched groves, the youthful poe… Nor while half-listening, mid deli… To harp and song from lady’s hand… Nor yet while gazing in sublimer m…
Trochee trips from long to short; From long to long in solemn sort Slow Spondee stalks, strong foot!… Ever to come up with Dactyl’s tri… Iambics march from short to long.
All thoughts, all passions, all de… Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I
Notus in fratres animi paterni. Hor. Carm. lib.II.2. A blesséd lot hath he, who having… His youth and early manhood in the… And turmoil of the world, retreats…
Low was our pretty Cot: our talle… Peep’d at the chamber-window. We… At silent noon, and eve, and early… The Sea’s faint murmur. In the op… Our Myrtles blossom’d; and across…
Edmund! thy grave with aching eye… And inly groan for heaven’s poor o… 'Tis tempest all or gloom: in earl… If gifted with the Ithuriel lance… We force to start amid her feigned…
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…