From Songs of Experience
Memory, hither come, And tune your merry notes; And, while upon the wind Your music floats, I’ll pore upon the stream
THERE’S Doctor Clash, And Signor Falalasole, O they sweep in the cash Into their purse hole! Fa me la sol, La me fa sol!
Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love,
Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in… Long John Brown had the Devil in… Long John Brown lov’d little Mar… And the Fairy drew the Devil into… Her Fairy skipp’d out and her Fai…
HONOUR and Genius is all I ask… And I ask the Gods no more! No more! No more! [the three Phi… No more! No more!
Earth rais’d up her head From the darkness dread and drear. Her light fled, Stony dread! And her locks cover’d with grey de…
Whether on Ida’s shady brow, Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the sun, that now From ancient melody have ceas’d; Whether in Heav’n ye wander fair,
WHEN early morn walks forth in s… Then to my black-eyed maid I hast… When evening sits beneath her dusk… And gently sighs away the silent h… The village bell alarms, away I g…
LEAVE, O leave me to my sorrows… Here I’ll sit and fade away, Till I’m nothing but a spirit, And I lose this form of clay. Then if chance along this forest
Awake, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother’s only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle s… Awake! thy father does thee keep. `O, what land is the Land of Drea…
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona s… When fourteen suns had faintly jou… His food she brought in iron baske… Crown’d with a helmet and dark hai… A quiver with its burning stores,…
Cruelty has a human heart And jealousy a human face, Terror the human form divine, And secrecy the human dress. The human dress is forged iron,
I saw a chapel all of gold That none did dare to enter in, And many weeping stood without, Weeping, mourning, worshipping. I saw a serpent rise between
I wander thro’ each charter’d stre… Near where the charter’d Thames d… And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man,
I LOVE the jocund dance, The softly breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, And where lisps the maiden’s tongu… I love the laughing vale,