With much ado you fail to tell The requisites for writing well; But, what bad writing is, you quit… Have proved by every line you writ…
Past ruined Ilion Helen lives, Alcestis rises from the shades. Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse… Immortal youth to mortal maids. Soon shall oblivion’s deepening ve…
Smiles soon abate; the boisterous… Of anger long burst forth; Inconstantly the south—wind blows, But steadily the north. Thy star, O Venus! often changes
Rejoice, ye nations! one is dead By whom ten thousand hearts have b… Widows and orphans, raise your voi… One voice, ye prostrate peoples, r… To God; to God alone be praise!
PROUD word you never spoke, but… Four not exempt from pride some fu… Resting on one white hand a warm w… Over my open volume you will say, “This man loved me!” then rise and…
ALAS, how soon the hours are ove… Counted us out to play the lover! And how much narrower is the stage Allotted us to play the sage! But when we play the fool, how wid…
Father: What brought thee back, l… Son: Father! the same feet As took me brought me back, I war… Father: Couldst thou not find the… Son: The deuce himself
In Clementina’s artless mien Lucilla asks me what I see, And are the roses of sixteen Enough for me? Lucilla asks, if that be all,
Against the groaning mast I stand… The Atlantic surges swell, To bear me from my native land And Zoë's wild farewell. From billow upon billow hurl’d
Welcome, old friend! These many y… Have we lived door by door; The fates have laid aside their sh… Perhaps for some few more. I was indocile at an age
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But Oh, who ever felt as I! No longer could I doubt him true;
WHEN Helen first saw wrinkles in… (’T was when some fifty long had s… And intermarried and branch’d off… She threw herself upon her couch a… On this side hung her head, and ov…
Mild is the parting year, and swee… The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its glo…
THE MOTHER of the Muses, we a… Is Memory: she has left me; they… And shake my shoulder, urging me t… About the summer days, my loves of… Alas! alas! is all I can reply.
THERE falls with every wedding c… A feather from the wing of Time. You pick it up, and say “How fair To look upon its colors are!” Another drops day after day