And has the earth lost its so spac… The sky its blue circumference abo… That in this little chamber there… Both earth and heaven—my universe… All that my God can give me, or r…

I heard a gentle maiden, in the sp… Set her sweet sighs to music, and… ‘Fly through the world, and I wil… Only for looks that may turn back… ’Only for roses that your chance m…

The swallow with summer Will wing o’er the seas, The wind that I sigh to Will visit thy trees. The ship that it hastens

Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy… And play to me so cheerily; For grief is dark, and care is sha… And life wears on so wearily. Oh! take thy harp!

Oh, heavy day! oh, day of woe! To misery a poster, Why was I ever farrowed, why Not spitted for a roaster? In this world, pigs, as well as me…

Most delicate Ariel! submissive t… Won by the mind’s high magic to it… Invisible embassy, or secret guest… Weighing the light air on a lighte… Whether into the midnight moon, to…

The stars are with the voyager Wherever he may sail; The moon is constant to her time; The sun will never fail; But follow, follow round the world…

Come, let us set our careful breas… Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief, That makes her accents so forlorn; The world has many cruel points,

No sun—no moon! No morn—no noon! No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of… No sky—no earthly view— No distance looking blue—

Unfathomable Night! how dost thou… Over the flooded earth, and darkly… The mighty city under thy full tid… Making a silent palace for old Sl… Like his own temple under the hush…

A little fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is bro… with silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters dow… She has a little silver wand,

The Autumn is old, The sere leaves are flying;— He hath gather’d up gold, And now he is dying;— Old Age, begin sighing!

A WANDERER, Wilson, from my n… Remote, O Rae, from godliness and… Where rolls between us the eternal… Besides some furlongs of a foreign… Beyond the broadest Scotch of Lon…

Sigh on, sad heart, for Love’s ec… And Beauty’s fairest queen, Though ’tis not for my peasant lip… To soil her name between: A king might lay his sceptre down,

The dead are in their silent grave… And the dew is cold above, And the living weep and sigh, Over dust that once was love. Once I only wept the dead,