#RhymedStanza
‘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…
When my mother died I was very yo… And my father sold me while yet my… Could scarcely cry “ ‘weep! ’weep!… So your chimneys I sweep & in soo… There’s little Tom Dacre, who cri…
The little boy lost in the lonely… Led by the wandering light, Began to cry, but God, ever nigh, Appeared like his father, in white… He kissed the child, and by the ha…
WHEN the green woods laugh with… And the dimpling stream runs laugh… When the air does laugh with our m… And the green hill laughs with the… When the meadows laugh with lively…
And there was heard a great lament… Of Beulah were moved as the tende… Why did you take Vengeance O ye… Planting these Oaken Groves: Ere… Injury the Lord heals but Vengean…
q| I will sing you a song of Los,… He sung it to four harps, at the t… In heart-formèd Africa. Urizen faded! Ariston shudder’d! And thus the Song began:—
Sound the flute! Now it’s mute. Birds delight Day and night. Nightingale
Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I
I wonder whether the girls are mad… And I wonder whether they mean to… And I wonder if William Bond wil… For assuredly he is very ill. He went to church in a May mornin…
Three Virgins at the break of day… `Whither, young man, whither away Alas for woe! alas for woe!' They cry, and tears for ever flow. The one was cloth’d in flames of f…
I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his hor… And the skylark sings with me. Oh, what sweet company!
HONOUR and Genius is all I ask… And I ask the Gods no more! No more! No more! [the three Phi… No more! No more!
“Father, father, where are you goi… O do not walk so fast. Speak, father, speak to your littl… Or else I shall be lost.” The night was dark, no father was…
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight,
Memory, hither come, And tune your merry notes; And, while upon the wind Your music floats, I’ll pore upon the stream