Life (priest and poet say) is but… I wish no happier one than to be l… Beneath some cool syringa’s scente… Or wavy willow, by the running str… Brimful of Moral, where the Drago…
Phraortes! where art thou? The flames were panting after us,… Before the Gods, who heard nor pr… Temples had sunk to earth, and oth… O’er riven altars broke
In spring and summer winds may blo… And rains fall after, hard and fas… The tender leaves, if beaten low, Shine but the more for shower and… But when their fated hour arrives,
YOUR pleasures spring like daisi… Cut down and up again as blithe as… From you, Ianthe, little troubles… Like little ripples in a sunny riv…
Here, where precipitate Spring wi… Into hot Summer’s lusty arms expi… And where go forth at morn, at eve… Soft airs, that want the lute to p… And softer sighs, that know not wh…
Here, ever since you went abroad, If there be change, no change I s… I only walk our wonted road, The road is only walkt by me. Yes; I forgot; a change there is;
I LEAVE thee, beauteous Italy!… From the high terraces, at even—ti… To look supine into thy depths of… Thy golden moon between the cliff… Or thy dark spires of fretted cypr…
Damaetas is a boy as rue As ever broke maid’s solitude. He watcht the little Ida going Where the wood—raspberries were gr… And, under a pretence of fear
YES; I write verses now and then… But blunt and flaccid is my pen, No longer talk’d of by young men As rather clever; In the last quarter are my eyes,
God scatters beauty as he scatters… O’er the wide earth, and tells us… A hundred lights in every temple b… And at each shrine I bend my knee…
Against the groaning mast I stand… The Atlantic surges swell, To bear me from my native land And Zoë's wild farewell. From billow upon billow hurl’d
Past ruined Ilion Helen lives, Alcestis rises from the shades. Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse… Immortal youth to mortal maids. Soon shall oblivion’s deepening ve…
Speak not too ill of me, Athenian… Nor ye, Athenian sages, speak too… From others of all tribes am I se… I leave your confines: none whom y… Finding me hungry and athirst, sha…
Very true, the linnets sing Sweetest in the leaves of spring: You have found in all these leaves That which changes and deceives, And, to pine by sun or star,
Child of a day, thou knowest not The tears that overflow thy urn, The gushing eyes that read thy lot… Nor, if thou knewest, couldst retu… And why the wish! the pure and ble…
