The summer and autumn had been so… That in winter the corn was growin… ’Twas a piteous sight to see all a… The grain lie rotting on the groun… Every day the starving poor

Aye Charles! I knew that this wou… This woodbine wreathing round the… Its leaves just withering, yet one… Still fresh and fragrant; and yon… That thro’ the creeping weeds and…

This mound in some remote and date… Rear’d o’er a Chieftain of the Ag… May here detain thee Traveller! f… Not idly lingering. In his narrow… Some Warrior sleeps below: his ga…

Nay EDITH! spare the rose!—it l… It feels the noon-tide sun, and dr… The dews of night; let not thy gen… Tear sunder its life-fibres and de… The sense of being!—why that infid…

Oh he is worn with toil! the big d… Down his dark cheek; hold—hold thy… Pale tyrant! for beneath thy hard… O’erwearied Nature sinks. The sco… As pityless as proud Prosperity,

If thou didst feed on western plai… Or waddle wide with flat and flabb… Over some Cambrian mountain’s pla… Or find in farmer’s yard a safe re… From gipsy thieves and foxes sly a…

Not to thee Bedford mournful is t… Of days departed. Time in his car… Arraigns not thee that the neglect… Has past unheeded onward. To the… Of years thou journeyest. May the…

Faint gleams the evening radiance… The sober twilight dimly darkens r… In short quick circles the shrill… And the slow vapour curls along th… Now the pleas’d eye from yon lone…

It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar’s work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green

Let ancient stories round the pain… Who stole from many a maid his Ve… Till warm devotion fired each gaze… And every bosom bounded with alarm… He culled the beauties of his nati…

High in the air exposed the slave… To all the birds of heaven, their… He groans not, though awaked by th… New torturers live to drink their… He groans not, though the gorging…

Hard by the road, where on that li… The high grass rustles to the pass… The child of Misery rests her hea… Pause there in sadness. That unha… Inshrines what once was Isabel. S…

Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly! Leave thy guilty sire to die. O’er the heath the stripling fled, The wild storm howling round his h… Fear mightier thro’ the shades of…

O reader! hast thou ever stood to… The Holly-tree? The eye that contemplates it well… Its glossy leaves Ordered by an Intelligence so wis…

My days among the Dead are past; Around me I behold, Where’er these casual eyes are cas… The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they,