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…

Water and windmills, greenness, I… Willows whose Trunks beside the s… Of their own higher half, and will… Farmhouses that at anchor seem’d—i… The fog-transfixing Spires—

Well, they are gone, and here must… This lime-tree bower my prison! I… Beauties and feelings, such as wou… Most sweet to my remembrance even… Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness!…

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…

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

Introduction. Person of Christ. His prayer on the cross. The process of his doctrines on the mind of the individual. Character of the elect. Superstition. Digression to the present war....

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…

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…

Come, come thou bleak December wi… And blow the dry leaves from the t… Flash, like a Love-thought, thro’… And take a Life that wearies me.

As when a child on some long winte… Affrighted clinging to its Granda… With eager wond’ring and perturbed… Listens strange tales of fearful d… Muttered to wretch by necromantic…

To meet, to know, to love—and then… Is the sad tale of many a human he…

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…

From his brimstone bed at break of… A walking the DEVIL is gone, To visit his little snug farm of t… And see how his stock went on. Over the hill and over the dale,

It was some spirit, Sheridan! tha… O’er thy young mind such wildly-va… My soul hath marked thee in her sh… Thy temples with Hymettian flowre… And sweet thy voice, as when o’er…