To The Genius Of Africa

O thou who from the mountain’s height Roll’st down thy clouds with all their weight Of waters to old Niles majestic tide; Or o’er the dark sepulchral plain Recallest thy Palmyra’s ancient pride, Amid

Sonnet 01

Go Valentine and tell that lovely maid Whom Fancy still will pourtray to my sight, How her Bard lingers in this sullen shade, This dreary gloom of dull monastic night. Say that from every

The Widow

Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell, Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked, When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey Weary and way-sore. Drear were the downs, more

Inscription 05 – For A Monument At Silbury-Hill

This mound in some remote and dateless day Rear’d o’er a Chieftain of the Age of Hills, May here detain thee Traveller! from thy road Not idly lingering. In his narrow house Some Warrior

Birth-Day Ode 02

Small is the new-born plant scarce seen Amid the soft encircling green, Where yonder budding acorn rears, Just o’er the waving grass, its tender head: Slow pass along the train of years, And on

To The Chapel Bell

“Lo I, the man who erst the Muse did ask Her deepest notes to swell the Patriot’s meeds, Am now enforst a far unfitter task For cap and gown to leave my minstrel weeds,”
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