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Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun Again the violet of our early days A good that never satisfies the mind A grace though melancholy, manly too. A heavenly Night! methinks to me Ah Sunflower! weary of time A hundred wings are dropt as soft as one Ah! what a weary race my feet have run Ah! what avails the sceptred race A juggler long through all the town Alexis, here she stayed; among these pines All thoughts, all passions, all delights All travellers at first incline All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom Although I enter not And are ye sure the news is true ? An hour with thee!- When earliest day Another year !--another deadly blow! Art thou pale for weariness As, by some tyrant's stern command As due by many titles, I resign As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea. Ask me no more where Jove bestows Ask me why I send you here A slanting ray of evening light As near Porto-Bello lying A steed, a steed of matchless speed Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Awake, Æolian lyre, awake Away, let nought to love displeasing A wee bird came to our ha' door.
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Can I see another's woe Can I, who have for others oft compiled Child of a day, thou knowest not Come, dear children, let us away Come live with me, and be my love Come, O Thou traveller unknown Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving Come Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace Come up from the fields, father; here's a letter from our Pete Conceit, begotten by the eyes Condemned to Hope's delusive mine
Dear Love, let me this evening die Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Die down, 0 dismal day, and let me live
Fair maid, had I not heard thy baby cries Fair ship, that from the Italian shore Fair Star of Evening; Splendour of the West Fair stood the wind for France False world, good night, since thou hast brought False world, thou liest; thou canst not lend Fare well man's dark last journey o'er the deep Farewell, too little and too lately known Fear no more the heat o' the sun First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come Five years have passed ; five summers, with the length Forget not yet the tried intent Fresh clad from heaven in robes of white Friend faber, cast me a round hollow ball From you have I been absent in the spring
Genius and its rewards are briefly told Give place, ye lovers, here before Go, empty joys Go, lovely Rose! Gone were but the winter cold Go, silly worm, drudge, trudge, and travel Go, Soul, the body's guest Great Monarch of the world, from whose power springs Green little vaulter on the sunny grass.
Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove! . Hail to thee, blithe Spirit Hamelin Town's in Brunswick Happy the man, whose wish and care Happy those early days, when I. Hardly we breathe, although the air be free Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star Heaven, what an age is this! what race Hence, all you vain delights Hence, loathéd Melancholy Hence, vain deluding Joys Here lies a piece of Christ; a star in dust Her sufferings ended with the day! He safely walks in darkest ways Hope, of all ills that men endure How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean How happy is he born and taught How sleep the brave, who sink to rest How soon doth man decay! How wisely Nature did decree
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I do confess thou 'rt smooth and fair If all the world and Love were young If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song. If, dumb too long, the drooping Muse hath stayed If I had thought thou could'st have died If the base violence of wicked men If thou wilt ease thine heart If to be absent were to be If women could be fair, and yet not fond I give thee treasures hour by hour I hear no more the locust beat I love to rise ere gleams the tardy light I mourn no more my vanished years I'm wearing awa', John In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
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In this marble buried lies In this marble casket lies In vain to me the smiling mornings shine I press not to the choir, nor dare I greet I saw where in the shroud did lurk Is this the spot where Rome's eternal foe I stood within the grave's o'er-shadowing vault I thought to meet no more, so dreary seemed It is a beauteous evening, calm and free It is not beauty I demand It is not growing like a tree I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile I weigh not fortune's frown or smile I were unkind unless that I did shed I will not praise the often-flattered rose I wish I were where Helen lies
Jerusalem, my happy home Joy for the promise of our loftier homes
Lady, I bid thee to a sunny dome Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth Last night, among his fellow roughs Lay a garland on my hearse Let him that will, ascend the tottering seat Like as a huntsman after weary chase Like as the damask rose you see Like to Diana in her summer weed Little charm of placid mien Look how the flower which lingeringly doth fade Lord, come away. Lord, in this dust thy sovereign voice
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Mary! I want a lyre with other strings Methinks it is good to be here Methought his royal person did foretell Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay Misdeeming eye! that stoopeth to the lure Mortality, behold and fear! Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day My dear and only Love, I pray My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My once dear Love! hapless that I no more My parents bow, and lead them forth My prime of youth is but a frost of cares
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