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 loved him not; and yet, now he i… I feel I am alone. I check’d him while he spoke; yet,… Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once…

MANY love music but for music’s… Many because her touches can awake Thoughts that repose within the br… And rise to follow where she loves… What various feelings come from da…

FRIENDS, whom she look’d at bla… And her white wrist above it, gem—… Were arguing with Pentheusa: she… Report of Creon’s death, whom yea… She listen’d to, well—pleas’d; and…

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…

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…

Welcome, old friend! These many y… Have we lived door by door; The fates have laid aside their sh… Perhaps for some few more. I was indocile at an age

O’erfoaming with rage The foul—mouth’d judge Page Thus question’d a thief in the doc… “Didst never hear read In the church, lump of lead!

Stand close around, ye Stygian se… With Dirce in one boat conveyed! Or Charon, seeing, may forget That he is old and she a shade.

MILD is the parting year, and sw… 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…

Ianthe! you are call’d to cross th… A path forbidden me! Remember, while the Sun his bless… Upon the mountain—heads, How often we have watcht him layin…

Avon! why runnest thou away so fas… Rest thee before that Chance! whe… The bones of him whose spirit move… I have beheld thy birthplace, I h… Thy tiny ripples where they played…

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…

You smiled, you spoke, and I beli… By every word and smile deceived. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hoped before: But let not this last wish be vain…

TO write as your sweet mother doe… Is all you wish to do. Play, sing, and smile for others,… Let others write for you. Or mount again your Dartmoor grey…