Sonnet XXIV: O Thou! Meek Orb
O thou! meek Orb! that stealing o’er the dale Cheer’st with thy modest beams the noon of night! On the smooth lake diffusing silv’ry light, Sublimely still, and beautifully pale! What can thy cool
Life
“What is this world?thy school, O misery! “Our only lesson is to learn to suffer.” – YOUNG. LOVE, thou sportive fickle boy, Source of anguish, child of joy, Ever woundingever smiling, Soothing still, and
Sonnet to Evening
[Written under a tree in the woods of St. Amand, in Flanders.] SWEET BALMY HOUR! dear to the pensive mind, Oft have I watch’d thy dark and weeping shade, Oft have I hail’d thee
The Bee and the Butterfly
UPON a garden’s perfum’d bed With various gaudy colours spread, Beneath the shelter of a ROSE A BUTTERFLY had sought repose; Faint, with the sultry beams of day, Supine the beauteous insect lay. A
The Shepherd's Dog
I. A Shepherd’s Dog there was; and he Was faithful to his master’s will, For well he lov’d his company, Along the plain or up the hill; All Seasons were, to him, the same
Sonnet XXV: Can'st Thou Forget
Can’st thou forget, O! Idol of my Soul! Thy Sappho’s voice, her form, her dulcet Lyre! That melting ev’ry thought to fond desire, Bade sweet delerium o’er thy senses roll? Can’st thou, so soon,
Lines Written by the Side of a River
FLOW soft RIVER, gently stray, Still a silent waving tide O’er thy glitt’ring carpet glide, While I chaunt my ROUNDELAY, As I gather from thy bank, Shelter’d by the poplar dank, King-cups, deck’d in
Ainsi Va le Monde
[As a Tribute of Esteem and Admiration this Poem is inscribed to ROBERT MERRY, Esq. A. M. Member of the Royal Academy at Florence, and Author of the Laurel of Liberty, and the Della
Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley
So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow’r, Whose spicy blossoms once perfum’d the gale; So press’d with tears reclines yon lily pale, Obedient to the rude and beating show’r. Still is the LARK,
Stanzas to Time
CAPRICIOUS foe to human joy, Still varying with the fleeting day; With thee the purest raptures cloy, The fairest prospects fade away; Nor worth, nor pow’r thy wings can bind, All earthly pleasures fly
Sonnet XIX: Farewell, Ye Coral Caves
Farewell, ye coral caves, ye pearly sands, Ye waving woods that crown yon lofty steep; Farewell, ye Nereides of the glitt’ring deep, Ye mountain tribes, ye fawns, ye sylvan bands: On the bleak rock
To the Muse of Poetry
EXULT MY MUSE! exult to see Each envious, waspish, jealous thing, Around its harmless venom fling, And dart its powerless fangs at THEE! Ne’er shalt THOU bend thy radiant wing, To sweep the dark
Sonnet XV: Now, Round My Favour'd Grot
Now, round my favor’d grot let roses rise, To strew the bank where Phaon wakes from rest; O! happy buds! to kiss his burning breast, And die, beneath the lustre of his eyes! Now,
Sonnet XVI: Delusive Hope
Delusive Hope! more transient than the ray That leads pale twilight to her dusky bed, O’er woodland glen, or breezy mountain’s head, Ling’ring to catch the parting sigh of day. Hence with thy visionary
Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest
“HERE POPE FIRST SUNG!” O, hallow’d Tree! Such is the boast thy bark displays; Thy branches, like thy Patron’s lays, Shall ever, ever, sacred be; Nor with’ring storm, nor woodman’s stroke, Shall harm the