« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
The white reflection of the sloop's great sail,
The woman was old and ragged and gray,
The world goes up and the world goes down,
They come the merry summer months of beauty, song,
The years have linings just as goblets do:
They told me in my earlier years, .
They wait all day unseen by us, unfelt;
Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone,
Think not your duty done when, sad and tearful,
This circulating principle of life,
This is Goethe, with a forehead,"
This is that hill of awe,.
This is where the roses grew,
This man whose homely face you look upon,
This name of mine the sun may steal away,
This sweet child that hath climbed upon my knee,
Thou art not dead; thou art not gone to dust
Thou art with me, here, upon the banks,
Thou, Bavaria's brown-eyed daughter,.
Thou blossom bright with Autumn dew,
Thou dear, misunderstood, maligned Delay,.
Thou first, best friend that heaven assigns below,
Though Reason through Faith's mysteries see,
Though wronged, not harsh my answer!
Though you should come again to-morrow,
Thou goest: to what distant place,
Thou happy, happy elf!
Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,
Thou knowest, O my Father! Why should I,
J. C. R. Dorr,
Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,.
Thou lone companion of the spectred night,
Thou mightier than Manoah's son,
Thou shalt have sun and shower from heaven above,
Thou whose birth on earth,
Three fishers went sailing away to the West,
Three, only three, my darling.
Three poets in three distant ages born,.
Three roses, wan as moonlight and weighed down,
T. B. Aldrich,
Three weeks to-day had old Doctor Drollhead, .
Through her forced, abnormal quiet,
Through love to light! Oh, wonderful the way,
Thus is it over all the earth!.
Thy bright brief day knew no decline
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright,
To Thee, fair Freedom, I retire,
Till the slow daylight pale,
Time, hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,.
Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings,
Tincture or syrup, lotion, drop, or pill,.
"Tis a fearful night in the winter time,
'Tis a story told by Kalidasa,-.
"Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours
'Tis not stringing rhymes together,
'Tis said that when the nightingale,
"Tis self whereby we suffer,
"Tis sweet to hear a brook, 'tis sweet,
To be, or not to be, that is the question,
To him who, in the love of Nature holds,
Toiling across the Mer de Glace,
Toil on toil on! ye ephemeral train,
Too late I stayed-forgive the crime
To learning's second seats we now proceed,
Toll, tower and minster, toll,
To Love in my heart, I exclaimed, t' ther morning,
To miry places me the hunters drive,
To-morrow has trouble to lend,.
Touch us gently, Time,
To you, my purse, and to none other wight,
Tread lightly, she is near,.
Tread softly! bow the head
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky,
True wit is nature to advantage dressed,
Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand,
Two maidens listening to the sea
Two things love can do,
C. B. Southey,
H. W. Longfellow,
Unusual darkness broods; and growing, gains,
Under the coffin-lid there are roses : .
Unfading Hope! when life's last embers burn,.
Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Up from the south at break of day,
Upon the sadness of the sea,.
Upon the white sea sand,
Venomous thorns that are so sharp and keen,
Verily the fancy may be false,
Verse, a breeze, mid blossoms straying,
Victoria's sceptre o'er the deep,
We're all alone, we're all alone!
Were I at Petra, could I not declare,
Werther had a love for Charlotte,.
We sat by the cheerless fireside,
We should fill the hours with the sweetest things,
What! and not one to heave the pious sigh?.
What could they be but happy? balanced so,
What if the foot, ordained the dust to tread,
What is it that doth spoil the fair adorning,
What is the little one thinking about?
What lies beyond the fair horizon's rim?
What makes a hero? not success, not fame,
What love do I bring you?
What man can hear sweet sounds and dread to die?
What shall I do with all the days and hours,.
What shall I sing?" I sighed, and said, .
What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod,.
What sounds arouse me from my slumbers light?.
What though I sing no other song?
What though not all,
What though short thy date!"
What though the chilly wide-mouthed quacking,
What thought is folded in thy leaves!
What to do to make thy fame,
What wak'st thou, Spring? Sweet voices in the woods,
What war so cruel, or what siege so sore,
What was I cannot tell thou know'st our story,.
What, what is virtue, but repose of mind,.
What would life keep for me if thou should'st go?
When at eve I sit alone,
When beeches brighten early May,
When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
When brooks of summer shallow run,
When I am dead, my dearest,
When chance or cruel business parts us two,
When chapman billies leave the street,
When I am turned to mouldering dust,.
When I beneath the cold red earth am sleeping,
When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
When I was dead, my spirit turned,
When last the maple bud was swelling,
When love is in her eyes,
When maidens such as Hester die,
When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
When men in health against physicians rail,
When once thy foot enters the church, be bare,
When the lessons and tasks are all ended,'
When the rose is brightest,
When the sheep are in the fauld,
When the stern genius, to whose hollow tramp,
When to any saint I pray,
When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away,
Where did you come from, baby dear?.
Whose is the gold that glitters in the mine?.
Widow Machree, it's no wonder you frown,
Within the sober realm of leafless trees,
With the same letter heaven and home begin,
Woods, waters, have a charm to soothe the ear,
Years, years ago, ere yet my dreams,
Ye banks, and braes, and streams around,
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true,
Ye Mariners of England! .
Yes, faith is a goodly anchor;
Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;
Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
Yes, 'twill be over soon,—..
Yes, write, if you want to, there's nothing like trying;
Yet of his little he had some to spare,
Yet once more, griever at Neglect,
"Yet, onward still! the spirit cries within,
Yon car of fire, though veiled by day,
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
Yet, though thou fade,
Ye've gathered to your place of prayer,
Yon woodland, like a human mind,
You may drink to your leman in gold,
Young Ben, he was a nice young man,
You think you love me, Marguerite,
Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn,
Youth, thou art fled, but where are all the charms,