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…

Mark this holy chapel well! The birth-place, this, of William… Here, where stands God’s altar dr… Stood his parent’s marriage-bed. II.

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…

Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of scepter’d state,

Richer than misers o’er their coun… Nobler than kings, or king-pollute… Here dwelt the man of Ross! O tra… Departed merit claims a reverent t… If 'neath this roof thy wine-cheer…

The Moon, how definite its orb! Yet gaze again, and with a steady… 'Tis there indeed,—but where is it… It is suffused o’er all the sapphi… Trees, herbage, snake—like stream,…

When British Freedom for an happi… Spread her broad wings, that flutt… Erskine! thy voice she heard, and… Sublime of hope! For dreadless th… (Thy censer glowing with the hallo…

A Conversation Poem, April, 1798 No cloud, no relique of the sunken… Distinguishes the West, no long t… Of sullen light, no obscure trembl… Come, we will rest on this old mos…

I have experienc’d The worst, the World can wreak on… That can make Life indifferent, y… With whisper’d Discontents the dy… I have beheld the whole of all, wh…

This is now—this was erst, Proposition the first—and Problem… On a given finite Line Which must no way incline; To describe an equi—

Ah cease thy tears and sobs, my li… I did but snatch away the unclaspe… Some safer toy will soon arrest th… And to quick laughter change this… Poor stumbler on the rocky coast o…

Once more, sweet stream! with slow… I bless thy milky waters cold and… Escaped the flashing of the noonti… With one fresh garland of Pierian… (Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink…

'Tis sweet to him, who all the wee… Through city-crowds must push his… To stroll alone through fields and… And hallow thus the Sabbath-day. And sweet it is, in summer bower,

The grapes upon the Vicar’s wall Were ripe as ripe could be; And yellow leaves in sun and wind Were falling from the tree. On the hedge-elms in the narrow la…

How long will ye round me be swell… O ye blue-tumbling waves of the se… Not always in caves was my dwellin… Nor beneath the cold blast of the… Thro’ the high-sounding halls of…