Since all that beat about in Natu… Or veer or vanish; why should’st t… The only constant in a world of ch… O yearning Thought! that liv’st b… Call to the Hours, that in the di…

Schiller! that hour I would have… If thro’ the shudd’ring midnight… From the dark Dungeon of the Towe… That fearful voice, a famished Fa… That in no after moment aught less…

Lines composed while climbing the… 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…

O thou wild fancy, check thy wing!… Those thin white flakes, those pur… Nor there with happy spirits speed… Bathed in rich amber-glowing flood… Nor in yon gleam, where slow desce…

At midnight by the stream I roved… To forget the form I loved. Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind. The Moon was high, the moonlight…

Nor travels my meand’ring eye The starry wilderness on high; Nor now with curious sight I mark the glow-worm as I pass, Move with 'green radiance’ thro’ t…

O peace, that on a lilied bank dos… To rest thine head beneath an oliv… I would that from the pinions of t… One quill withouten pain yplucked… For oh! I wish my Sara’s frowns t…

We pledged our hearts, my love and… I in my arms the maiden clasping; I could not tell the reason why, But, O, I trembled like an aspen! Her father’s love she bade me gain…

I stood on Brocken’s sovran heigh… Woods crowding upon woods, hills o… A surging scene, and only limited By the blue distance. Heavily my… Downward I dragged through fir gr…

Stretched on a mouldered Abbey’s… Where ruining ivies propped the ru… Her folded arms wrapping her tatte… Had Melancholy mused herself to s… The fern was pressed beneath her h…

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…

Nor cold nor stern my soul! Yet I… These scented rooms, where to a ga… Heaves the proud harlot her disten… In intricacies of laborious song. These feel not musics genuine powe…

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

Why need I say, Louisa dear! How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fea… And feverish heat incessant.