PART I. Pictured in memory’s mellowing gla… Our infant days, our infant joys,… To roam in fancy in each cherish’d… The village churchyard, and the vi…

Hence to thy darkest shades, dire… Thine icy touch can freeze, Swift as the Polar breeze The proud defying port of human se… Hence to thine Indian cave,

As thus oppressed with many a heav… (Though young yet sorrowful), I t… To the dark woodland, longing much… The form of peace, if chance she s… Deep thought and dismal, verging t…

Oh! thou most fatal of Pandora’s… Consumption! silent cheater of the… Thou comest not robed in agonizing… Nor mark’st thy course with Death… But silent and unnoticed thou dost…

’Tis midnight. On the globe dead… And all is silence-in the hour of… Save when the hollow gust, that sw… In the dark wood roars fearfully a… I wake alone to listen and to weep…

Oh! who would cherish life, And cling unto this heavy clog of… Love this rude world of strife, Where glooms and tempests cloud th… And where, 'neath outward smiles,

Emblem of life! see changeful Apr… In varying vest along the shadowy… Now bidding summer’s softest zephy… Anon recalling winter’s stormy gal… And pouring from the cloud her sud…

He sunk, the impetuous river roll’… The sullen wave betray’d his dying… And rising sad the rustling sedge… The gale of evening touch’d the co… Nymph of the Trent! why didst tho…

Ye unseen spirits, whose wild melo… At evening rising slow, yet sweetl… Steal on the musing poet’s pensive… As by the wood-spring stretch’d su… When he, who now invokes you, low…

Hark! how the merry bells ring joc… And now they die upon the veering… Anon they thunder loud Full on the musing ear. Wafted in varying cadence, by the…

Sweet scented flower! who art wont… On January’s front severe, And o’er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay n…

Quick o’er the wintry waste dart f… Bleak blows the blast-now howls—th… And oft upon its awful wings it wa… The dying wanderer’s distant, feeb… Now, when athwart the gloom gaunt…

Let the sublimer Muse, who wrapt… Rides on the raven pennons of the… Or o’er the field with purple havo… Lashes her steeds and sings along… Let her, whom more ferocious strai…

I. 1. Many there be, who, through the va… With velvet pace, unnoticed, softl… While jarring discord’s inharmonio… Awakes them not to woe.

It is not that my lot is low, That bids this silent tear to flow… It is not grief that bids me moan; It is that I am all alone. In woods and glens I love to roam…