Stanza
Often rebuked, yet always back returning To those first feelings that were born with me, And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning For idle dreams of things which cannot be: Today, I will
Honour's Martyr
The moon is full this winter night; The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves of frozen dew. The sweet moon through your lattice gleams And lights your room
If grief for grief can touch thee
If grief for grief can touch thee, If answering woe for woe, If any truth can melt thee Come to me now! I cannot be more lonely, More drear I cannot be! My worn
That Wind I Used to Hear it Swelling
That wind I used to hear it swelling With joy divinely deep You might have seen my hot tears welling But rapture made me weep I used to love on winter nights To lie
"I am the only being whose doom…"
I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask no eye would mourn I never caused a thought of gloom A smile of joy since I was born In secret pleasure –
High waving heather 'neath stormy blasts bending
High waving heather ‘neath stormy blasts bending, Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars, Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending, Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending, Man’s spirit away from its drear dungeon sending,
Hope
Hope was but a timid friend; She sat without the grated den, Watching how my fate would tend, Even as selfish-hearted men. She was cruel in her fear; Through the bars, one dreary day,
How still, how happy!
How still, how happy! Those are words That once would scarce agree together; I loved the plashing of the surge – The changing heaven the breezy weather, More than smooth seas and cloudless skies
Come hither, child
Come hither, child who gifted thee With power to touch that string so well? How darest thou rouse up thoughts in me, Thoughts that I would but cannot quell? Nay, chide not, lady; long
The Prisoner
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear Year after year in gloom and desolate despair; A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal
Plead For Me
Oh, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me And tell, why I have chosen thee! Stern
Wind was Rough which Tore, The
The wind was rough which tore That leaf from its parent tree The fate was cruel which bore The withering corpse to me We wander on we have no rest It is a dreary
Death
Death! that struck when I was most confiding In my certain faith of joy to be – Strike again, Time’s withered branch dividing From the fresh root of Eternity! Leaves, upon Time’s branch, were
Come, Walk With Me
Come, walk with me, There’s only thee To bless my spirit now – We used to love on winter nights To wander through the snow; Can we not woo back old delights? The clouds
Stars
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun Restored our Earth to joy, Have you departed, every one, And left a desert sky? All through the night, your glorious eyes Were gazing down in mine, And,