My eyes make pictures when they're shut:-- I see a fountain large and fair,
40 lines
(Beareth all things.---1 Cor. xiii. 7.)
18 lines
He too has flitted from his secret nest, Hope's last and dearest child without a name!--
66 lines
Near the lone pile with ivy overspread, Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound,
28 lines
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave? I said, you had no soul, 'tis true!
14 lines
No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope Soon shall I now before my God appear,
40 lines
The body,
Eternal Shadow of the finite Soul,
4 lines
'And hail the chapel! hail the platform wild Where Tell directed the avenging dart,
91 lines
Tho' veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath,
Love is a sword that cuts its sheath,
8 lines, 2 comments
Ter. But that entrance, Selma? Sel. Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale!
68 lines
(Act II, Scene I, lines 65-80)
45 lines
"How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits Honour or wealth with all his worth and pains!
16 lines, 1 comment
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?--
11 lines
Are there two things, of all which men possess,
That are so like each other and so near,
14 lines
Sea-ward, white gleaming thro' the busy scud
With arching Wings, the sea-mew o'er my head
6 lines
Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!
4 lines, 1 comment
As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood
11 lines
Whom should I choose for my Judge? the earnest, impersonal reader,
Who, in the work, forgets me and the world and himself!
7 lines
The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze--
10 lines
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt--
A Flight of Hopes for ever on the wing
5 lines
Water and windmills, greenness, Islets green;--
Willows whose Trunks beside the shadows stood
7 lines
Though friendships differ endless in degree, The sorts, methinks, may be reduced to three.
4 lines
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
91 lines
Like a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind,
28 lines
Trochee trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort
19 lines
A sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted:
16 lines
Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe, O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
15 lines
The first seen in the season
Nitens et roboris expers
24 lines, 1 comment
Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West! How many various-fated years have past,
13 lines
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel!
How many Bards in city garret pent,
26 lines
|