England! My England! can the surging sea
That lies between us tear my heart from thee?
63 lines
In the Midnight heaven's burning
Through the ethereal deeps afar
48 lines, 2 comments
As when a pigeon, loos'd in realms remote,
Takes instant wing, and seeks his native cote,
3 lines, 1 comment
As Christmas snows (as yet a poet's trope)
Call back one's bygone days of youth and hope,
4 lines
The cottage hearth beams warm and bright,
The candles gaily glow;
9 lines
O'er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
44 lines
Haughty Sphinx, whose amber eyes
Hold the secrets of the skies,
8 lines, 1 comment
How dull the wretch, whose philosophic mind
Disdains the pleasures of fantastic kind;
30 lines
There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
24 lines
I. The Book
The place was dark and dusty and half-lost
646 lines, 2 comments
May good St. Nick, like as a bird of night,
Bring thee rich blessings in his annual flight;
5 lines
Once more the ancient feast returns,
And the bright hearth domestic burns
6 lines
The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,
And the trees have a silver glare;
35 lines
How sad droop the willows by Zalal's fair side,
Where so lately I stray'd with my raven-hair'd bride;
44 lines
Si veris magna paratur
Fama bonis, et se successu nuda remoto
65 lines
Little Tiger, burning bright
With a subtle Blakeish light,
9 lines, 1 comment
It was in the pale garden of Zais;
The mist-shrouded gardens of Zais,
99 lines, 1 comment
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
67 lines, 1 comment
As Columbia's brave scions, in anger array'd,
Once defy'd a proud monarch and built a new nation;
28 lines
The hours of night unheeded fly,
And in the grate the embers fade;
15 lines
With pensive grace, the melancholy Swan
Mourns o'er the tomb of luckless Phaethon;
11 lines
We are the valiant Knights of Peace
Who prattle for the Right:
28 lines
Where bay and river tranquil blend,
And leafy hillsides rise,
40 lines
In a vale of light and laughter,
Shining 'neath the friendly sun,
56 lines
St. John, whose art sublimely shines
In liquid odes and melting lines,
9 lines
The cloudless day is richer at its close;
A golden glory settles on the lea;
12 lines
Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me,
Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
64 lines, 1 comment
Babels of blocks to the high heavens towering
Flames of futility swirling below;
24 lines, 1 comment
It was golden and splendid,
That City of light;
55 lines
I am a peaceful working man,
I am not wise or strong,
48 lines
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