In Clementina’s artless mien Lucilla asks me what I see, And are the roses of sixteen Enough for me? Lucilla asks, if that be all,
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…
WHEN Helen first saw wrinkles in… (’T was when some fifty long had s… And intermarried and branch’d off… She threw herself upon her couch a… On this side hung her head, and ov…
THE TONGUE of England, that w… Have spoken and will speak, were p… Hereafter, but two mighty men stan… Above the flight of ages, two alon… One crying out,
REMAIN, ah not in youth alone, Though youth, where you are, long… But when my summer days are gone, And my autumnal haste away. “Can I be always by your side?”
HOW many verses have I thrown Into the fire because the one Peculiar word, the wanted most, Was irrecoverably lost!
NO, my own love of other years! No, it must never be. Much rests with you that yet endea… Alas! but what with me? Could those bright years o’er me r…
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…
Lately our poets loiter’d in green… Content to catch the ballads of th… I fancied I had strength enough t… A loftier station at no distant ti… And might securely from intrusion…
To my ninth decade I have tottere… And no soft arm bends now my steps… She, who once led me where she wou… So when he calls me, Death shall…
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;
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…
Hyperbion was among the chosen few Of Phoebus; and men honored him a… Honoring in him the God. But othe… As loudly; and the boys as loudly… Hyperbion (more than bard should b…
THERE is a flower I wish to wea… But not until first worn by you— Heartsease—of all earth’s flowers… Bring it; and bring enough for two…
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…
