When saucy Celia came my way I knew my sport was ended, So ceased my cunning rod to play, Since she the fish befriended. Across my eyes her tangled locks

Lift me up from this bed of sickne… I am going out to meet the summer. I will run into the arms of Sunsh… And be so comforted, the first new… “I will lift you up,' said the bla…

Clarissa, when you passed me by With scornful lip and haughty eye, My fault I did deplore, Your anger, like a poisoned dart, Struck death into my guilty heart,

On the dry brown bough The withered leaves still cling In their last desperate hold And ceaseless murmuring. They push the swinging branch

He walks like one enchanted, Whose soul is held in thrall, By some sweet presence haunted Who passed unseen by all. He speaks as half-forgetting

Is it some shade from Paradise, Shut down beneath the clouding ski… This wandering voice that ever cri… In its pathetic sweetness? Some loving soul that, leaning far

Where the sword has opened the way… ‘Look! they came, the triumphant a… Over yon hill see their weapons pe… Still I spoke not but my wheel se… I closed my eyes for my heart was…

She made roses all the day for pre… All through the patient hours, hal… Dragged into a hurried knot all he… Eyes foolish with fatigue, straini… Pretty ladies roamed away over lan…

He was the son of a hunting squire And heir to a fair estate, And she but an humble serving maid Who opened his father’s gate. He thought her sweet as the garden…

When the dark comes, ‘Is this the end?’ I pray; No answer from the night, And then once more the day. I take the world again

‘There’s a hound at the door, Sha… There’s a hound at the door. If you take down the bar or the sh… I shall see you no more, I shall see you no more!’

For that old love I once adored I deck my halls and spread my boar… At Christmas-time. With all the winter’s flowers that… I wreathe my room, and mistletoe

Here, in the silent churchyard, 'm… Weary I sit for a moment clasping… Weary of worldly passions of selfi… Grant me the shade of thy wings,… Weary of smiling faces when the he…

O to be a woman! to be left to piq… When the winds are out and calling… Whisht! it whistles at the windows… There! the last leaves of the beec… All the boats at anchor they are p…

The little birds, they do not heed… The ungracious wind, the branches… The sleety burden of the jaundiced… Bring them no mourning, for the bi… Though from their beak the stolen…