A Night-Rain in Summer
Open the window, and let the air Freshly blow upon face and hair, And fill the room, as it fills the night, With the breath of the rain’s sweet might. Hark! the burthen, swift
May and the Poets
There is May in books forever; May will part from Spenser never; May’s in Milton, May’s in Prior, May’s in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer; May’s in all the Italian books: She has old and modern
The Glove and The Lions
King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
To the Grasshopper and the Cricket
Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that’s heard amidst the lazy noon, When even the bees lag at the summoning brass; And
Robin Hood's Flight
Robin Hood’s mother, these twelve years now, Has been gone from her earthly home; And Robin has paid, he scarce knew how, A sum for a noble tomb. The church-yard lies on a woody
A Fish Answers
Amazing monster! that, for aught I know, With the first sight of thee didst make our race For ever stare! O flat and shocking face, Grimly divided from the breast below! Thou that on
Death
Death is a road our dearest friends have gone; Why with such leaders, fear to say, “Lead on?” Its gate repels, lest it too soon be tried, But turns in balm on the immortal