#English
To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; O bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to His throne! My Saviour, whom absent I love,
As one who, long in thickets and i… Entangled, winds now this way and… His devious course uncertain, seek… Or, having long in miry ways been… And sore discomfited, from slough…
You bid me write to amuse the tedi… And save from withering my poetic… Hard is the task, my friend, for v… From the free mind, not fettered d… Restless amidst unceasing tempests…
And dwells there in a female heart… By bounteous heaven design’d The choicest raptures to impact, To feel the most refined; Dwells there a wish in such a brea…
With seeds and birdlime, from the… Eumelus gather’d free, though scan… No lordly patron’s hand he deign’d… Nor luxury knew, save liberty, nor… Thrice thirty years he lived, and…
This evening, Delia, you and I, Have managed most delightfully, For with a frown we parted; Having contrived some trifle that We both may be much troubled at,
Winter has a joy for me, While the Saviour’s charms I read… Lowly, meek, from blemish free, In the snowdrop’s pensive head. Spring returns, and brings along
... England, with all thy faults, I l… My country! and, while yet a nook… Where English minds and manners m… Shall be constrain’d to love thee.…
The Spirit breathes upon the word… And brings the truth to sight; Precepts and promises afford A sanctifying light. A glory gilds the sacred page,
At length, my friend, the far-sent… Charged with thy kindness, to thei… They come, at length, from Deva’s… Where prone she seeks the salt Ve… Trust me, my joy is great that tho…
Sauntering along the street one da… On trifles musing by the way, Up steps a free familiar wight; (I scarcely knew the man by sight.… ‘Carlos (he cried), your hand, my…
Boy, I hate their empty shows, Persian garlands I detest, Bring not me the late-blown rose, Lingering after all the rest. Plainer myrtle pleases me,
The straw-stuffed hamper with its… He open’d, cutting sheer th’ inser… Which bound the lid and lip secure… The rustling package first, bright… Or oats, or barley; next a bottle…
Hence, my epistle—skim the Deep—f… Yon smooth expanse to the Teutoni… Haste—lest a friend should grieve… And the Gods grant that nothing t… I will myself invoke the King who…
When wit and genius meet their doo… In all devouring flame, They tell us of the fate of Rome, And bid us fear the same. O’er Murray’s loss the Muses wept…