Mary Darby Robinson
Stanzas to the Rose
SWEET PICTURE of Life’s chequer’d hour! Ah, wherefore droop thy blushing head? Tell me, oh tell me, hap’less flow’r, Is it because thy charms are fled? Come, gentle ROSE, and learn from me A
Sonnet IX: Ye, Who in Alleys Green
Ye, who in alleys green and leafy bow’rs, Sport, the rude children of fantastic birth; Where frolic nymphs, and shaggy tribes of mirth, In clam’rous revels waste the midnight hours; Who, link’d in flaunting
Second Ode to the Nightingale
BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE, Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale! Where oft I’ve heard thy dulcet strain In mournful melody complain; When in the POPLAR’S trembling shade, At Evening’s purple hour I’ve
Sonnet XXVI: Where Antique Woods
Where antique woods o’er-hang the mountains’s crest, And mid-day glooms in solemn silence lour; Philosophy, go seek a lonely bow’r, And waste life’s fervid noon in fancied rest. Go, where the bird of sorrow
Absence
WHEN from the craggy mountain’s pathless steep, Whose flinty brow hangs o’er the raging sea, My wand’ring eye beholds the foamy deep, I mark the restless surgeand think of THEE. The curling waves, the
Stanzas to Flora
LET OTHERS wreaths of ROSES twine With scented leaves of EGLANTINE; Enamell’d buds and gaudy flow’rs, The pride of FLORA’S painted bow’rs; Such common charms shall ne’er be wove Around the brows of him
The Mistletoe (A Christmas Tale)
A farmer’s wife, both young and gay, And fresh as op’ning buds of May; Had taken to herself, a Spouse, And plighted many solemn vows, That she a faithful mate would prove, In meekness,
Elegy on the Death of Lady Middleton
THE knell of death, that on the twilight gale, Swells its deep murmur to the pensive ear; In awful sounds repeats a mournful tale, And claims the tribute of a tender tear. The dreadful
Sonnet XXXVII: When, in the Gloomy Mansion
When, in the gloomy mansion of the dead, This with’ring heart, this faded form shall sleep; When these fond eyes, at length shall cease to weep, And earth’s cold lap receive this fev’rish head;
The Negro Girl
I. Dark was the dawn, and o’er the deep The boist’rous whirlwinds blew; The Sea-bird wheel’d its circling sweep, And all was drear to view When on the beach that binds the western shore
Ode to Beauty
EXULTING BEAUTY,phantom of an hour, Whose magic spells enchain the heart, Ah! what avails thy fascinating pow’r, Thy thrilling smile, thy witching art? Thy lip, where balmy nectar glows; Thy cheek, where round the
Elegy to the Memory of Werter
“With female Fairies will thy tomb be haunted “And worms will not come to thee.” SHAKSPERE. WHEN from Day’s closing eye the lucid tears Fall lightly on the bending lily’s head; When o’er the
Echo to Him Who Complains
O FLY thee from the shades of night, Where the loud tempests yelling rise; Where horrror wings her sullen flight Beneath the bleak and lurid skies. As the pale light’ning swiftly gleams O’er the
Sonnet. Inscribed to Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire
‘TIS NOT thy flowing hair of orient gold, Nor those bright eyes, like sapphire gems that glow; Nor cheek of blushing rose, nor breast of snow, The varying passions of the heart could hold:
The Alien Boy
‘Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut Built on a jutting crag, o’erhung with weeds, Mark’d the poor Exile’s home. Full ten long years The melancholy wretch