SLEEP COME, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, Th' indifferent judge between the high and low; And if these things, as being thine in right, SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. HYMN FOR THE DEAD THAT day of wrath, that dreadful day, When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, Oh! on that day, that wrathful day, SIR W. SCOTT. THE POPLAR FIELD THE poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade, Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade! The blackbird has fled to another retreat, My fugitive years are all hasting away, With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, 'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can, To muse on the perishing pleasures of man; Short-lived as we are, our pleasures, I see Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we. W. COWPER. WINTER WHEN icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, Tuwhit! tuwhoo! A merry note! While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all around the wind doth blow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, Tuwhit! tuwhoo! A merry note ! While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. SHAKESPEARE. ANNABEL LEE Ir was many and many a year ago, That a maiden there lived whom you may know And this maiden she lived with no other thought I was a child, and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven And this was the reason that, long ago, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling So that her high-born kinsmen came To shut her up in a sepulchre |