Proud word you never spoke, but yo… 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…

Sophocles: Thou goest then, and l… Aeschylos: Nay, say not so. Whose is the hand that now is pres… A hand I may not ever press again… What glorious forms hath it brough…

You smiled, you spoke, and I beli… By every word and smile deceived. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hoped before: But let not this last wish be vain…

LO! where the four mimosas blend… In calm repose at last is Landor… For ere he slept he saw them plant… By her his soul had ever held most… And he had liv’d enough when he ha…

Life (priest and poet say) is but… I wish no happier one than to be l… Beneath some cool syringa’s scente… Or wavy willow, by the running str… Brimful of Moral, where the Drago…

One lovely name adorns my song, And, dwelling in the heart, Forever falters at the tongue, And trembles to depart.

Catch her and hold her if you can— See, she defies you with her fan, Shuts, opens, and then holds it sp… In threatening guise over your hea… Ah! why did you not start before

Struggling, and faint, and fainter… O Moon! and round thee all thy st… Came forth to help thee, with half… And trembled every one with still… That the black Spectre should hav…

I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson, Come and share my haunch of veniso… I have too a bin of claret, Good, but better when you share it… Tho’ 'tis only a small bin,

WITH rosy hand a little girl pre… A boss of fresh—cull’d cowslips in… Often as they sprang up again, a f… Show’d she dislik’d resistance to… But when they droop’d their heads…

YOU smil’d, you spoke, and I bel… By every word and smile deceiv’d. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hop’d before: But let not this last wish be vain…

Life (priest and poet say) is but… I wish no happier one than to be l… Beneath a cool syringa’s scented s… Or wavy willow, by the running str… Brimful of moral, where the dragon…

REMAIN, ah not in youth alone! —Tho’ youth, where you are, long w… But when my summer days are gone, And my autumnal haste away. ‘Can I be always by your side?’

HOW many verses have I thrown Into the fire because the one Peculiar word, the wanted most, Was irrecoverably lost!

Soon, O Ianthe! life is o’er, And sooner beauty’s heavenly smile… Grant only (and I ask no more), Let love remain that little while.