STILL let my tyrants know, I am not doom'd to wear
Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;
33 lines
Part II
Child of Delight! with sunbright hair
30 lines
Riches I hold in light esteem
And Love I laugh to scorn
13 lines
COLD in the earth--and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
38 lines
THE night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
14 lines
A LITTLE while, a little while,
The noisy crowd are barred away;
53 lines
Heavy hangs the rain-drop
From the burdened spray;
78 lines
In the earth--the earth--thou shalt be laid,
A grey stone standing over thee;
24 lines
Well, some may hate, and some may scorn,
And some may quite forget thy name;
26 lines
'TIS moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
13 lines
OFTEN rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were b
23 lines
How beautiful the Earth is still
To thee–how full of Happiness;
60 lines
The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
28 lines
The Bluebell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air:
32 lines
"Listen! When your hair, like mine,
Takes a tint of silver gray;
34 lines
How few, of all the hearts that loved,
Are grieving for thee now;
40 lines
For him who struck thy foreign string,
I ween this heart has ceased to care;
16 lines
I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me,
There's nothing lovely here;
18 lines, 1 comment
There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning;
16 lines
Enough of thought, philosopher!
Too long hast thou been dreaming
56 lines
"The evening passes fast away.
'Tis almost time to rest;
48 lines
Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep,
24 lines
The moon is full this winter night;
The stars are clear, though few;
64 lines
"O day! he cannot die
When thou so fair art shining!
52 lines
O, thy bright eyes must answer now,
When Reason, with a scornful brow,
40 lines
Well hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught
A feeling strange or new;
38 lines
THE linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
29 lines
Come hither, child--who gifted thee
With power to touch that string so well?
32 lines, 1 comment
When weary with the long day's care,
And earthly change from pain to pain,
36 lines
Often rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were born with me,
20 lines
|