Yes, my stray steps have wander’d,… From thee, and long, heart-soothin… And many a flower, which in the pa… My heart hath register’d, nipp’d b… Of undeserved neglect, hath shrunk…

Softly, softly blow, ye breezes, Gently o’er my Edwy fly! Lo! he slumbers, slumbers sweetly; Softly, zephyrs, pass him by! My love is asleep,

Thou, spirit of the spangled night… I woo thee from the watchtower hig… Where thou dost sit to guide the b… Of lonely mariner. The winds are whistling o’er the w…

Sad solitary Thought, who keep’st… Thy solemn vigils, in the sick man… Communing lonely with his sinking… And musing on the dubious glooms t… In dim obscurity before him,-thee,

Sweet to the gay of heart is Summ… Sweet the wild music of the laughi… But ah! my soul far other scenes b… Where gloomy storms their sullen s… Is it for me to strike the Idalia…

When twilight steals along the gro… And all the bells are ringing roun… One, two, three, four, and five, I at my study window sit, And, wrapp’d in many a musing fit,

Go to the raging sea, and say, ‘B… Bid the wild lawless winds obey th… Preach to the storm, and reason wi… But tell not Misery’s son that li… Thou, who in Plenty’s lavish lap…

‘Do I not feel?’ The doubt is kee… Yea, I do feel-most exquisitely f… My heart can weep, when, from my d… I chase the tear, and stem the ris… Deep buried there I close the ran…

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…

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,

Oh! thou who, in my early youth, When fancy wore the garb of truth, Wert wont to win my infant feet To some retired, deep fabled seat, Where, by the brooklet’s secret ti…

Mighty magician! who on Torneo’s… When sullen tempests wrap the thro… Art wont to sit and catch the glea… That shoots athwart the gloom opaq… And listen to the distant death-sh…

Yes, once more that dying strain, Anna, touch thy lute for me; Sweet, when pity’s tones complain, Doubly sweet is melody. While the Virtues thus enweave

Woman of weeping eye, ah! for thy… Putting on smiles to lure the lewd… Smiling while anguish gnaws at thy… Sad is thy chance, thou daughter o… Vice and disease are wearing thee…

Mild offspring of a dark and sulle… Whose modest form, so delicately f… Was nursed in whirling storms And cradled in the winds; Thee, when young Spring first que…