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If Sometimes in the Haunts of Men
If sometimes in the haunts of men Thine image from my breast may fade, The lonely hour presents again The semblance of thy gentle shade: And now that sad and silent hour Thus much of thee can st
On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year
'T IS time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruit
On a Distant View of the Village and School of Harrow on the Hill, 1806
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection Embitters the present, compar'd with the past; Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection, And friendships were form'd, too romantic
To the Republicans of North America
Brothers! between you and me Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar: Yet in spirit oft I see On thy wild and winding shore Freedom's bloodless banners wave,-- Feel the pulses of the brave Unextinguished in
The Child's faith is new --
The Child's faith is new -- Whole -- like His Principle -- Wide -- like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes -- Never had a Doubt -- Laughs -- at a Scruple -- Believes all sham But Paradise -- Credits the World
On the Day of the Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome, I beheld thee, oh Sion! when rendered to Rome: 'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall Flashed back on the last glance I gave to t
Stanzas to Jessy
There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath'd with mine alone, That Destiny's relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these eyes Have fondly gazed with
To a Lady
Oh! had my Fate been join'd with thine, As once this pledge appear'd a token, These follies had not, then, been mine, For, then, my peace had not been broken. To thee, these early faults I owe,
To My Son
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue Bright as thy mother's in their hue; Those rosy lips, whose dimples play And smile to steal the heart away, Recall a scene of former joy, And touch thy father's
Moonrise
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning: The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle, Or paring of paradisaical fruit,
A Psalm of Life
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is rea
Distant Hills
What is there in those distant hills My fancy longs to see, That many a mood of joy instils? Say what can fancy be? Do old oaks thicken all the woods, With weeds and brakes as here? Does common
The Dream
Dear love, for nothing less than thee Would I have broke this happy dream; It was a theme For reason, much too strong for phantasy: Therefore thou waked'st me wisely; yet My dream thou brok'st not, bu
Bigotry's Victim
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind, The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair? When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hind Repose trust in his footsteps of air? No! Abando
To Ireland
Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isle Sees summer on its verdant pastures smile, Its cornfields waving in the winds that sweep The billowy surface of thy circling deep! Thou tree whose shadow o'
Fragments Supposed to Be Parts of Otho
Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil, Nor custom, queen of many slaves, makes blind, Have ever grieved that man should be the spoil Of his own weakness, and with earnest mind Fed hopes of i
Turkeys
The turkeys wade the close to catch the bees In the old border full of maple trees And often lay away and breed and come And bring a brood of chelping chickens home. The turkey gobbles loud and drops
386. The Rights of Women—Spoken by Miss Fontenelle
WHILE Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things, The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fu
195. Song—A Rose-bud by my Early Walk
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o’ dawn are fled, In a’ its crimson glory spread, And droopin
234. A Mother’s Lament for her Son’s Death
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped, And pierc’d my darling’s heart; And with him all the joys are fled Life can to me impart. By cruel hands the sapling drops, In dust dishonour’d laid; So fel
203. Sylvander to Clarinda
WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless fair, First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, He gaz’d, he listened to despair, Alas! ’twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda’s heavenly eyes, Transfixed
In Hilly-Wood
How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs, But not an eye can find its way to see. The sunbeams scarce moles
Nightwind
Darkness like midnight from the sobbing woods Clamours with dismal tidings of the rain, Roaring as rivers breaking loose in floods To spread and foam and deluge all the plain. The cotter listens at hi
The Skylark
Above the russet clods the corn is seen Sprouting its spiry points of tender green, Where squats the hare, to terrors wide awake, Like some brown clod the harrows failed to break. Opening their golden