There is a change—and I am poor; Your love hath been, nor long ago, A fountain at my fond heart’s door, Whose only business was to flow; And flow it did; not taking heed Of its own bounty, or my need. What happy moments did I count! Blest was I then all bliss above! Now, […]
Lo! where the Moon along The sky sails with her happy destiny; Oft is she hid from mortal eye or dimly seen, But when the clouds asunder fly how bright her mien! Far different we—a forward race, thousands though Rich in Fortune’s grace With cherished sullenness of pace Their way pursue, Ingrates who wear a
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are
I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sat reclined; In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts, Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link, The human soul that through me ran; And much is grieved my heart to think, What man has made of man? The
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove. A Maid whom there were none of praise And very few to love; A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When
I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And “thou shalt not” writ over the door; So I turn’d to the Garden of Love, That so
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews
Piping down the valleys wild Piping songs of pleasant glee On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me, “Pipe a song about a Lamb”; So I piped with merry cheer. “Piper pipe that song again” So I piped, he wept to hear. “Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe Sing thy
Thou fair-hair’d angel of the evening, Now, while the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed! Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the Blue curtains of the sky, scatter the silver dew On every flower that shuts its
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky: The dew shall weep thy fall tonight; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye: Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of
A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears, Made of a heart, and cemented with tears: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workman’s tool bath touched the same. A HEART alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy power doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame,
Fame’s pillar here at last we set, Out-during marble, brass or jet; Charmed and enchanted so As to withstand the blow Of overthrow; Nor shall the seas, Or outrages Of storms, o’erbear What we uprear; Tho’ kingdoms fall, This pillar never shall Decline or waste at all; But stand or ever by his own Firm
A sweet disorder in the dressKindles in clothes a wantonness.A lawn about the shoulders thrownInto a fine distraction; An erring lace, which here and thereEnthralls the crimson stomacher; A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbons to flow confusedly; A winning wave, deserving note, In the tempestuous petticoat; A careless shoestring, in whose tie I see a