That which he did not feel, he wou… What most he felt, religion it was… In a dumb darkling grotto, where t… Of tremulous tears, arising unespi… Became a holy well that durst not…

See how a Seed, which Autumn flun… And through the Winter neglected… Uncoils two little green leaves an… With tiny root taking hold on the… As, lifting and strengthening day…

Down on the shore, on the sunny sh… Where the salt smell cheers the la… Where the tide moves bright under… And the surge on the glittering st… Where the children wade in the sha…

Here the white-ray’d anemone is bo… Wood-sorrel, and the varnish’d but… And primrose in its purfled green… Pallid and sweet round every buddi… Gray ash, and beech with rusty lea…

A man who keeps a diary, pays Due toll to many tedious days; But life becomes eventful—then His busy hand forgets the pen. Most books, indeed, are records le…

Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, A blue sky of spring, White clouds on the wing; What a little thing

Chequer’d with woven shadows as I… Among the grass, blinking the wate… I saw an Echo-Spirit in his bay Most idly floating in the noontide… Slow heaved his filmy skiff, and f…

By the shore, a plot of ground Clips a ruined chapel round, Buttressed with a grassy mound; Where Day and Night and Day go b… And bring no touch of human sound.

I once was a guest at a Nobleman’… Fair was the Bride, but she scarc… And now in our mirth, she had tear… Her former true lover still runs i… Attired like a minstrel, her forme…

Gray, gray is Abbey Assaroe, by… It has neither door nor window, th… The carven-stones lie scatter’d in… The only feet are those that come… A little rocky rivulet runs murmur…

Saint Margaret’s Eve it did befal… The waves roll so gayly O, The tide came creeping up the wall… Love me true! I opened my gate; who there should…

O English mother, in the ruddy gl… Hugging your baby closer when outs… You see the silent, soft, and crue… Falling again, and think what ills… Unshelter’d creatures,- your sad t…

An Elf sat on a twig, He was not very big, He sang a little song, He did not think it wrong; But he was on a Wizard’s ground,

O pale green sea, With long, pale, purple clouds abo… What lies in me like weight of lov… What dies in me With utter grief, because there co…

O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells… The swallow from her distant clime… The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the s…