“Who hath not felt that breath in… A perfume and freshness strange an… A warmth in the light, and a bliss… When young hearts yearn together? All sweets below, and all sunny ab…

Young Ben he was a nice young man… A carpenter by trade; And he fell in love with Sally Br… That was a lady’s maid. But as they fetch’d a walk one day…

Good morrow to the golden morning, Good morrow to the world’s delight… I’ve come to bless thy life’s begi… Since it makes my own so bright! I have brought no roses, sweetest,

I remember, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon

One more Unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death! Take her up tenderly,

The world is with me, and its many… Its woes—its wants—the anxious hop… That wait on all terrestrial affai… The shades of former and of future… Forboding fancies and prophetic te…

Lady, wouldst thou heiress be To Winters cold and cruel part? When he sets the rivers free, Thou dost still lock up thy heart;… Thou that shouldst outlast the sno…

(The Argument: Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an inc...

A little fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is bro… with silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters dow… She has a little silver wand,

Immortal Imogen, crown’d queen ab… The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe t… A fairy dream in honor of true lov… True above ills, and frailty, and… Perchance a shadow of his own care…

Summer is gone on swallows’ wings, And Earth has buried all her flow… No more the lark,—the linnet—sings… But Silence sits in faded bowers. There is a shadow on the plain

I Remember, I Remember I remember, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn;

I saw old Autumn in the misty mor… Stand shadowless like Silence, li… To silence, for no lonely bird wou… Into his hollow ear from woods for… Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn…

Come, let us set our careful breas… Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief, That makes her accents so forlorn; The world has many cruel points,