Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: “Pipe a song about a Lamb!”
Children of the future age, Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a cr… In the age of gold,
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave:
LO! the Bat with leathern wing, Winking and blinking, Winking and blinking, Winking and blinking, Like Dr. Johnson.
Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in… Long John Brown had the Devil in… Long John Brown lov’d little Mar… And the Fairy drew the Devil into… Her Fairy skipp’d out and her Fai…
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
“Love seeketh not itself to please… Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell's des… So sung a little Clod of Clay
WHEN early morn walks forth in s… Then to my black-eyed maid I hast… When evening sits beneath her dusk… And gently sighs away the silent h… The village bell alarms, away I g…
The daughters of Mne Seraphim led… All but the youngest; she in palen… To fade away like morning beauty f… Down by the river of Adona her so… And thus her gentle lamentation fa…
PHOEBE drest like beauty’s quee… Jellicoe in faint pea-green, Sitting all beneath a grot, Where the little lambkins trot. Maidens dancing, loves a-sporting,
THE BELL struck one, and shook… The graves give up their dead: fai… Walk’d by the castle gate, and loo… A hollow groan ran thro’ the drear… She shriek’d aloud, and sunk upon…
SAMSON, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman’s arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turn...
JUSTICE hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion’s breast; for Albion’s sins are crimson dy’d, and the red scourge follows her desolate sons. Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise...
‘O WINTER! bar thine adamantine… The north is thine; there hast tho… Deep-founded habitation. Shake no… Nor bend thy pillars with thine ir… He hears me not, but o’er the yawn…
O, I say, you Joe, Throw us the ball! I’ve a good mind to go And leave you all. I never saw such a bowler