THERE is a flower I wish to wea… But not until first worn by you— Heartsease—of all earth’s flowers… Bring it; and bring enough for two…

Father: What brought thee back, l… Son: Father! the same feet As took me brought me back, I war… Father: Couldst thou not find the… Son: The deuce himself

MILD is the parting year, and sw… The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its glo…

Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But oh, who ever felt as I? No longer could I doubt him true;

Phraortes! where art thou? The flames were panting after us,… Before the Gods, who heard nor pr… Temples had sunk to earth, and oth… O’er riven altars broke

NO, my own love of other years! No, it must never be. Much rests with you that yet endea… Alas! but what with me? Could those bright years o’er me r…

PROUD word you never spoke, but… 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…

I LEAVE thee, beauteous Italy!… From the high terraces, at even—ti… To look supine into thy depths of… Thy golden moon between the cliff… Or thy dark spires of fretted cypr…

Stand close around, ye Stygian se… With Dirce in one boat conveyed! Or Charon, seeing, may forget That he is old and she a shade.

Tanagra! think not I forget Thy beautifully—storey’d streets; Be sure my memory bathes yet In clear Thermodon, and yet greet… The blythe and liberal shepherd bo…

THERE falls with every wedding c… A feather from the wing of Time. You pick it up, and say “How fair To look upon its colors are!” Another drops day after day

Nor empty are the honours that we… To the departed; our own hearts ar… Brimfull with grateful reminiscenc… Compassion is excited; the most st… Relent; and better even the best r…

The Year’s twelve daughters had i… Of measured pace tho’ varying mien… Some froward, some sedater, some a… For festival, some reckless of att… The snow had left the mountain—top…

I loved him not; and yet, now he i… I feel I am alone. I check’d him while he spoke; yet,… Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once…

THE MOTHER of the Muses, we a… Is Memory: she has left me; they… And shake my shoulder, urging me t… About the summer days, my loves of… Alas! alas! is all I can reply.