The year’s at the spring, And day’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hill-side’s dew-pearled; The lark’s on the wing;

Oh Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is v… I can hardly misconceive you; it w… But although I take your meaning,… II. Here you come with all your music,…

HEAP cassia, sandal-buds and str… Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smear’d with dull nard an Indian… From out her hair: such balsam fal… Down sea-side mountain pedestals,

Said Abner, ‘At last thou art com… ’Kiss my cheek, wish me well!' Th… And he, ‘Since the King, O my fr… ’Neither drunken nor eaten have we… ‘Thou return with the joyful assur…

What it was struck the terror into… This, Publius: closer! while we w… I’ll tell you. Water’s warm (they… At the eighth hour, till when no u… Here in the vestibule where now we…

Morning, evening, noon and night, 'Praise God!; sang Theocrite. Then to his poor trade he turned, Whereby the daily meal was earned. Hard he laboured, long and well;

ALL the breath and the bloom of t… All the wonder and wealth of the m… In the core of one pearl all the s… Breath and bloom, shade and shine,… Truth, that’s brighter than gem,

Now that I, tying thy glass mask… May gaze thro’ these faint smokes… As thou pliest thy trade in this d… Which is the poison to poison her,… He is with her, and they know that…

[SPAIN.] It is a lie—-their Priests, their… Their Saints, their... all they f… Are lies, and lies—-there! through… And ceiling, there! and walls and…

Your ghost will walk, you lover of… (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with… Hark, those two in the hazel coppi…

O God, where does this tend—these… What would I have? What is this ‘… To bound all? can there be a ‘waki… Of crowning life? The soul would… It would be first in all things—it…

How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark autumn-evenings… And where, my soul, is thy pleasan… With the music of all thy voices,… In life’s November too!

Si credere dignum est.—Virgil,… Oh, worthy of belief I hold it wa… Virgil, your legend in those stran… No question, that adventure came t… One black night in Arcadia: yes,…

At the midnight in the silence of… When you set your fancies free, Will they pass to where—by death,… Low he lies who once so loved you,… —Pity me?

Cleon the poet (from the sprinkled… Lily on lily, that o’erlace the se… And laugh their pride when the lig… To Protus in his Tyranny: much he… They give thy letter to me, even n…