183. Verses Written with a Pencil at the Inn at Kenmore

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1. 189. Verses on Castle Gordon STREAMS that glide in orient plains, Never bound by Winter’s chains; Glowing here on golden sands, There immix’d with foulest stains From Tyranny’s empurpled hands; These, their richly gleaming waves, I leave to tyrants and their slaves; Give me the stream that sweetly laves The banks by Castle Gordon. Spicy forests, ever gray, Shading from […]...
2. Written On Sunday Morning Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! I to the Woodlands wend, and there In lovely Nature see the GOD OF LOVE. The swelling organ’s peal Wakes not my soul to zeal, Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove. The gorgeous altar and the mystic vest Rouse not such ardor in my breast, […]...
3. Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni I The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark now glittering now reflecting gloom Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings Of waters with a sound but half its own, Such as a feeble brook will oft assume, In […]...
4. The Pencil Seller A pencil, sir; a penny won’t you buy? I’m cold and wet and tired, a sorry plight; Don’t turn your back, sir; take one just to try; I haven’t made a single sale to-night. Oh, thank you, sir; but take the pencil too; I’m not a beggar, I’m a business man. Pencils I deal in, […]...
5. Memorial Verses Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron’s struggle cease. But one such death remain’d to come; The last poetic voice is dumb We stand to-day by Wordsworth’s tomb. When Byron’s eyes were shut in death, We bow’d our head and held our breath. He taught us little; but our soul Had felt […]...
6. Lines Written From Home Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground With fallen leaves so thickly strown, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan; There is a friendly roof, I know, Might shield me from the wintry blast; There is a fire, whose ruddy glow Will cheer me for my wanderings past. And […]...
7. Purple Martins IF we were such and so, the same as these, Maybe we too would be slingers and sliders, Tumbling half over in the water mirrors, Tumbling half over at the horse heads of the sun, Tumbling our purple numbers. Twirl on, you and your satin blue. Be water birds, be air birds. Be these purple […]...
8. 156. Verses inscribed under a Noble Earl's Picture WHOSE 1 is that noble, dauntless brow? And whose that eye of fire? And whose that generous princely mien, E’en rooted foes admire? Stranger! to justly show that brow, And mark that eye of fire, Would take His hand, whose vernal tints His other works admire. Bright as a cloudless summer sun, With stately port […]...
9. Upon the saying that my VERSES were made by another NExt Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred Muse! ) I offer’d up, nor didst thou them refuse. O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou’lt inspire, And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire, No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart, Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part, More Rich, […]...
10. Ode Written On The First Of December Tho’ now no more the musing ear Delights to listen to the breeze That lingers o’er the green wood shade, I love thee Winter! well. Sweet are the harmonies of Spring, Sweet is the summer’s evening gale, Pleasant the autumnal winds that shake The many-colour’d grove. And pleasant to the sober’d soul The silence of […]...
11. Lines Written at Thorp Green That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to see. And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a […]...
12. If it had no pencil If it had no pencil Would it try mine Worn now and dull sweet, Writing much to thee. If it had no word, Would it make the Daisy, Most as big as I was, When it plucked me?...
13. Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold’s Painted Window at New College, Oxford Ah, stay thy treacherous hand, forbear to trace Those faultless forms of elegance and grace! Ah, cease to spread the bright transparent mass, With Titian’s pencil, o’er the speaking glass! Nor steal, by strokes of art with truth combin’d, The fond illusions of my wayward mind! For long, enamour’d of a barbarous age, A faithless […]...
14. Lines Written During A Period Of Insanity Hatred and vengence-my eternal portion Scarce can endure delay of execution – Wait with impatient readiness to seize my Soul in a moment. Damned below Judas; more abhorred than he was, Who for a few pence sold his holy Master! Twice betrayed, Jesus me, the last delinquent, Deems the profanest. Man disavows, and Deity disowns […]...
15. The Waking I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of […]...
16. 241. Written in Friars' Carse Hermitage (Second Version) THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night,-in darkness lost; Hope not sunshine ev’ry hour, Fear not clouds will always lour. As Youth and Love with sprightly dance, Beneath […]...
17. My Heart's In The Highlands Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the […]...
18. Lines Written In Early Spring I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through […]...
19. 292. Song-Farewell to the Highlands FAREWELL to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. Chorus.-My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild-deer, and following the […]...
20. Elegy Written In A Country Churchyard The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning […]...
21. TO My Lord Colrane, In Answer to his Complemental Verses sent me under the Name of CLEANOR LOng my dull Muse in heavy slumbers lay, Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way, Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy, Or fancying little worthy her employ. When Noble Cleanors obliging Strains Her, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains. Confus’d at first, she rais’d her drowsie Head, Ponder’d a while, then pleas’d, forsook […]...
22. 425. Song-Had I a cave HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore, Where the winds howl to the wave’s dashing roar: There would I weep my woes, There seek my lost repose, Till grief my eyes should close, Ne’er to wake more! Falsest of womankind, can’st thou declare All thy fond, plighted vows fleeting as air! To thy […]...
23. To Live Merrily, And To Trust To Good Verses Now is the time for mirth, Nor cheek or tongue be dumb; For with the flow’ry earth The golden pomp is come. The golden pomp is come; For now each tree does wear, Made of her pap and gum, Rich beads of amber here. Now reigns the rose, and now Th’ Arabian dew besmears My […]...
24. All That's Past Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier’s boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose. Very old are the brooks; And the rills that rise Where snow sleeps cold beneath The azure skies […]...
25. Alone In The Woods Alone in the woods I felt The bitter hostility of the sky and the trees Nature has taught her creatures to hate Man that fusses and fumes Unquiet man As the sap rises in the trees As the sap paints the trees a violent green So rises the wrath of Nature’s creatures At man So […]...
26. Written near a Port on a Dark Evening Huge vapours brood above the clifted shore, Night on the ocean settles dark and mute, Save where is heard the repercussive roar Of drowsy billows on the rugged foot Of rocks remote; or still more distant tone Of seamen in the anchored bark that tell The watch relieved; or one deep voice alone Singing the […]...
27. Written at Stonehenge Thou noblest monument of Albion’s isle! Whether by Merlin’s aid, from Scythia’s shore, To Amber’s fatal plain Pendragon bore, Huge frame of giant-hands, the mighty pile T’ entomb his Britons slain by Hengist’s guile: Or Druid priests, sprinkled with human gore, Taught ‘mid thy massy maze their mystic lore: Or Danish chiefs, enrich’d with savage […]...
28. 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 POET’S favourite Oak. ‘Twas HERE, he woo’d his MUSE of fire, While Inspiration’s wond’rous art, Sublimely stealing thro’ his heart Did […]...
29. TO HIS VERSES What will ye, my poor orphans, do, When I must leave the world and you; Who’ll give ye then a sheltering shed, Or credit ye, when I am dead? Who’ll let ye by their fire sit, Although ye have a stock of wit, Already coin’d to pay for it? I cannot tell: unless there be […]...
30. Lines Written Among The Euganean Hills Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on – Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way, With the solid darkness black Closing round his vessel’s track: Whilst above the sunless sky, Big with […]...
31. 329. Verses on the destruction of the Woods near Drumlanrig AS on the banks o’ wandering Nith, Ae smiling simmer morn I stray’d, And traced its bonie howes and haughs, Where linties sang and lammies play’d, I sat me down upon a craig, And drank my fill o’ fancy’s dream, When from the eddying deep below, Up rose the genius of the stream. Dark, like […]...
32. WHEN HE WOULD HAVE HIS VERSES READ In sober mornings, do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse; But when that men have both well drunk, and fed, Let my enchantments then be sung or read. When laurel spirts i’ th’ fire, and when the hearth Smiles to itself, and gilds the roof with mirth; When up the Thyrse is […]...
33. Here Follows Some Verses upon the Burning of Our House In silent night when rest I took For sorrow near I did not look I waked was with thund’ring noise And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice. That fearful sound of “Fire!” and “Fire!” Let no man know is my desire. I, starting up, the light did spy, And to my God my heart did cry […]...
34. Sonnet I: Favour'd by Heav'n Favour’d by Heav’n are those, ordain’d to taste The bliss supreme that kindles fancy’s fire; Whose magic fingers sweep the muses’ lyre, In varying cadence, eloquently chaste! Well may the mind, with tuneful numbers grac’d, To Fame’s immortal attributes aspire, Above the treach’rous spells of low desire, That wound the sense, by vulgar joys debas’d. […]...
35. Verses on the Death of Doctor Swift As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew From nature, I believe ’em true: They argue no corrupted mind In him; the fault is in mankind. This maxim more than all the rest Is thought too base for human breast: “In all distresses of our friends, We first consult our private ends; While nature, kindly bent to ease […]...
36. Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples The sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon’s transparent might, The breath of the moist air is light, Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds’, the birds’, the ocean floods’, The City’s voice […]...
37. Verses Observe this Piece, which to our Sight does bring The fittest Posture for the Swedish King; (Encompass’d, as we think, with Armies round, Tho’ not express’d within this narrow Bound) Who, whilst his warlike and extended Hand Directs the foremost Ranks to Charge or Stand, Reverts his Face, lest That, so Fair and Young, Should […]...
38. To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the N Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion’s lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, Wars, and filial faith, and Dido’s pyre; Landscape-lover, lord of language More than he that sang the “Works and Days,” All the chosen coin of fancy Flashing out from many a golden phrase; Thou that singest wheat and woodland, Tilth […]...
39. The Hawk ‘Call down the hawk from the air; Let him be hooded or caged Till the yellow eye has grown mild, For larder and spit are bare, The old cook enraged, The scullion gone wild.’ ‘I will not be clapped in a hood, Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist, Now I have learnt to be […]...
40. Suppose? It’s mighty nice at shut of day With weariness to hit the hey, To close your eyes, tired through and through, And just forget that “you are you.” It’s mighty sweet to wake again When sunshine floods the window pain; I love in cosy couch to lie, And re-discover “I am I.” It would be […]...