There are some qualities – some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is made A type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so
Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! How many memories of what radiant hours At sight of thee and thine at once awake! How
I SAW thee on thy bridal day – When a burning blush came o’er thee, Though happiness around thee lay, The world all love before thee: And in thine eye a kindling light (Whatever
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother,” Therefore by that dear name
How often we forget all time, when lone Admiring Nature’s universal throne; Her woods – her winds – her mountains – the intense Reply of Hers to Our intelligence! I. In youth I have
Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all
Kind solace in a dying hour! Such, father, is not (now) my theme- I will not madly deem that power Of Earth may shrive me of the sin Unearthly pride hath revell’d in- I
In spring of youth it was my lot To haunt of the wide world a spot The which I could not love the less- So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild lake, with
Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not
By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule-
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some
At morn – at noon – at twilight dim- Maria! thou hast heard my hymn! In joy and woe – in good and ill- Mother of God, be with me still! When the hours
So sweet the hour, so calm the time, I feel it more than half a crime, When Nature sleeps and stars are mute, To mar the silence ev’n with lute. At rest on ocean’s
I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride- Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.