I know 'tis but a Dream, yet feel more anguish
Than if 'twere Truth. It has been often so:
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Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn.
0 lines, 1 comment
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, God grant me grace my prayers to say:
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The shepherds went their hasty way, And found the lowly stable-shed
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To meet, to know, to love--and then to part, Is the sad tale of many a human heart.
1 lines, 1 comment
My eyes make pictures when they're shut:-- I see a fountain large and fair,
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This is now--this was erst,
Proposition the first--and Problem the first.
0 lines, 2 comments
Now as Heaven is my Lot, they're the Pests of the Nation! Wherever they can come
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'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise,
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In stale blank verse a subject stale I send per post my Nightingale;
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Where graced with many a classic spoil Cam rolls his reverend stream along,
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Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe, O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
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Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet, and thrush say, 'I love and I love!'
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The poet in his lone yet genial hour Gives to his eyes a magnifying power :
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As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood
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Part The First 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock
738 lines, 2 comments
In Köhln, a town of monks and bones, And pavements fang'd with murderous stones
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Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!
4 lines, 1 comment
My pensive Sara, thy soft cheek reclined Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
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Since all, that beat about in Nature's range, Or veer or vanish; why should'st thou remain
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Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms ;
159 lines, 1 comment
Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame ; It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
3 lines, 1 comment
I have experienc'd The worst, the World can wreak on me--the worst
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Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found?
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Unchanged within, to see all changed without, Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
13 lines, 4 comments
Near the lone pile with ivy overspread, Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound,
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Stop, Christian passer-by : Stop, child of God, And read, with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
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Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care;
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Its balmy lips the infant blest Relaxing from its mother's breast,
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O! it is pleasant with a heart at ease, Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
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