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, CCXCVI. William Cowper. I KNEW by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd It was noon, and on flowers that languish'd around And, "here in this lone little wood," I exclaim'd, "With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye, Who would blush when I praised her, and weep if I blamed, How blest could I live, and how calm could I die! "By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline, And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, Which had never been sigh'd on by any but mine!" Thomas Moore. CCXCVII. AN ITALIAN SONG. DEAR is my little native vale, The ringdove builds and murmurs there; Close to my cot she tells her tale To every passing villager. The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers, With my loved lute's romantic sound; The shepherd's horn at break of day, Sung in the silent green-wood shade; Shall bind me to my native vale. CCXCVIII. Samuel Rogers. SOMETHING CHILDISH BUT VERY NATURAL. IF I had but two little wings, And were a little feathery bird, But thoughts like these are idle things, But in my sleep to you I fly : I'm always with you in my sleep, The world is all one's own. But then one wakes, and where am I? Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids: Yet, while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids, Samuel T. Coleridge. CCXCIX. THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT. To Lady Throckmorton. MARIA! I have every good For thee wish'd many a time, To wish thee fairer is no need, What favour then not yet possess'd, In wedded love already bless'd To thy whole heart's desire? None here is happy but in part : There dwells some wish in every heart, That wish, on some fair future day, CCC. William Cowper. TO A LADY. 'Tis not the lily brow I prize, A thousand fold more dear to me The look that gentle love discloses,— That look which Love alone can see. CCCI. Samuel T. Coleridge. TO HESTER SAVORY. WHEN maidens such as Hester die, A month or more hath she been dead, To think upon the wormy bed And her together. A springy motion in her gait, I know not by what name beside Her parents held the Quaker rule A waking eye, a prying mind, A heart that stirs, is hard to bind; My sprightly neighbour! gone before Charles Lamb. CCCII. My Lilla gave me yestermorn "Since this sweet rose I owe to you, Dear girl, why may I not possess The lovelier Rose that gave it too?" Unknown. CCCIII. MARGARET AND DORA. MARGARET'S beauteous-Grecian arts Dora's eyes of heavenly blue Artists! Margaret's smile receive, But for perfect worship leave CCCIV. Thomas Campbell. CLEMENTINA AND LUCILLA. IN Clementina's artless mien, Enough for me? Lucilla asks, if that be all, Have I not cull'd as sweet before Ah, yes, Lucilla ! and their fall I still deplore. I now behold another scene, Where Pleasure beams with heaven's own light, More pure, more constant, more serene, And not less bright. Faith on whose breast the Loves repose, Whose chain of flowers no force can sever, And Modesty, who when she goes, Is gone for ever. Walter Savage Landor. |