The Year’s twelve daughters had i… Of measured pace tho’ varying mien… Some froward, some sedater, some a… For festival, some reckless of att… The snow had left the mountain—top…
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But Oh, who ever felt as I! No longer could I doubt him true;
IN his own image the Creator made… His own pure sunbeam quicken’d the… Thou breathing dial! since thy day… The present hour was ever mark’d w…
REMAIN, ah not in youth alone! —Tho’ youth, where you are, long w… But when my summer days are gone, And my autumnal haste away. ‘Can I be always by your side?’
YOU smil’d, you spoke, and I bel… By every word and smile deceiv’d. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hop’d before: But let not this last wish be vain…
Soon, O Ianthe! life is o’er, And sooner beauty’s heavenly smile… Grant only (and I ask no more), Let love remain that little while.
I held her hand, the pledge of bli… Her hand that trembled and withdre… She bent her head before my kiss..… My heart was sure that hers was tr… Now I have told her I must part,
ALAS, how soon the hours are ove… Counted us out to play the lover! And how much narrower is the stage Allotted us to play the sage! But when we play the fool, how wid…
Mild is the parting year, and swee… The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its glo…
One lovely name adorns my song, And, dwelling in the heart, Forever falters at the tongue, And trembles to depart.
HOW many verses have I thrown Into the fire because the one Peculiar word, the wanted most, Was irrecoverably lost!
“Do you remember me? or are you pr… Lightly advancing thro’ her star—t… Ianthe said, and lookt into my eye… “A yes, a yes, to both: for Memor… Where you but once have been must…
From you, Ianthe, little troubles… Like little ripples down a sunny r… Your pleasures spring like daisies… Cut down, and up again as blithe a…
“ARTEMIDORA! Gods invisible, While thou art lying faint along t… Have tied the sandal to thy veined… And stand beside thee, ready to co… Thy weary steps where other rivers…
There is delight in singing, tho’… Beside the singer; and there is de… In praising, tho’ the praiser sit… And see the prais’d far off him, f… Shakspeare is not our poet, but th…
