No more ‘twixt conscience staggeri… Soon shall I now before my God ap… By him to be acquitted, as I hope… By him to be condemned, as I fear… REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE

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…

Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wer… That Genius plunged thee in that… High Castalie: and (sureties of t… That Pity and Simplicity stood by… And promised for thee that thou sh…

Near the lone pile with ivy oversp… Fast by the rivulet’s sleep-persua… Where 'sleeps the moonlight’ on yo… O humbly press that consecrated gr… For there does Edmund rest, the l…

Where graced with many a classic s… Cam rolls his reverend stream alon… I haste to urge the learned toil That sternly chides my love-lorn s… Ah me! too mindful of the days

All look and likeness caught from… All accident of kin and birth, Had pass’d away. There was no tra… Of aught on that illumined face, Uprais’d beneath the rifted stone

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…

My pensive SARA! thy soft cheek… Thus on mine arm, most soothing sw… To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o’… With white-flower’d Jasmin, and t… (Meet emblems they of Innocence a…

Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet… How many various-fated years have… What happy and what mournful hours… I skimm’d the smooth thin stone al… Numbering its light leaps! yet so…

Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. ‘What no one with us shares, seems scarce our own.’ ...

Dear native brook! wild streamlet… How many various-fated years have… What happy and what mournful hours… I skimmed the smooth thin stone al… Numbering its light leaps! Yet so…

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees ; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose,

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!…

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