Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of scepter’d state,
Dear native brook! wild streamlet… How many various-fated years have… What happy and what mournful hours… I skimmed the smooth thin stone al… Numbering its light leaps! Yet so…
Never, believe me, Appear the Immortals, Never alone: Scarce had I welcomed the Sorrow-… Iacchus! but in came Boy Cupid th…
When they did greet me Father, su… Weigh’d down my spirit! I retired… Seeking the throne of grace, but i… No heavenly visitation upwards dra… My feeble mind, nor cheering ray i…
Trochee trips from long to short; From long to long in solemn sort Slow Spondee stalks, strong foot!… Ever to come up with Dactyl’s tri… Iambics march from short to long.
Sweet flower! that peeping from th… Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange… This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse,… Hath borrowed Zephyr’s voice, and… With blue voluptuous eye) alas poo…
It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glitte… Now wherefore stopp’st thou me? The Bridegroom’s doors are opened…
Well, they are gone, and here must… This lime—tree bower my prison! I… Beauties and feelings, such as wou… Most sweet to my remembrance even… Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness!…
Well! If the Bard was weather—wis… The grand old ballad of Sir Patri… This night, so tranquil now, will… Unroused by winds, that ply a busi… Than those which mould yon cloud i…
Nor travels my meand’ring eye The starry wilderness on high; Nor now with curious sight I mark the glow-worm as I pass, Move with 'green radiance’ thro’ t…
Stretched on a mouldered Abbey’s… Where ruining ivies propped the ru… Her folded arms wrapping her tatte… Had Melancholy mused herself to s… The fern was pressed beneath her h…
Water and windmills, greenness, I… Willows whose Trunks beside the s… Of their own higher half, and will… Farmhouses that at anchor seem’d—i… The fog-transfixing Spires—
With many a pause and oft reverted… I climb the Coomb’s ascent: sweet… Warble in shade their wild-wood me… Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soot… Up scour the startling stragglers…
How long will ye round me be swell… O ye blue-tumbling waves of the se… Not always in caves was my dwellin… Nor beneath the cold blast of the… Thro’ the high-sounding halls of…
Schiller! that hour I would have… If thro’ the shudd’ring midnight… From the dark Dungeon of the Towe… That fearful voice, a famished Fa… That in no after moment aught less…
