What is it men in women do require The lineaments of Gratified Desir… What is it women do in men require The lineaments of Gratified Desir…
WHEN silver snow decks Sylvio’s… And jewel hangs at shepherd’s nose… We can abide life’s pelting storm, That makes our limbs quake, if our… Whilst Virtue is our walking-staf…
LOVE and harmony combine, And around our souls entwine While thy branches mix with mine, And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit,
And there was heard a great lament… Of Beulah were moved as the tende… Why did you take Vengeance O ye… Planting these Oaken Groves: Ere… Injury the Lord heals but Vengean…
My mother groan’d! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my father’s hands,
Hear the voice of the Bard! Who Present, Past, and Future, s… Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walk’d among the ancient tree…
O HOLY virgin! clad in purest wh… Unlock heav’n’s golden gates, and… Awake the dawn that sleeps in heav… Rise from the chambers of the east… The honey’d dew that cometh on wak…
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona s… When fourteen suns had faintly jou… His food she brought in iron baske… Crown’d with a helmet and dark hai… A quiver with its burning stores,…
Three Virgins at the break of day… `Whither, young man, whither away Alas for woe! alas for woe!' They cry, and tears for ever flow. The one was cloth’d in flames of f…
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Prudence is...
My mother bore me in the southern… And I am black, but O! my soul is… White as an angel is the English… But I am black, as if bereav’d of… My mother taught me underneath a t…
The daughters of Mne Seraphim led… All but the youngest; she in palen… To fade away like morning beauty f… Down by the river of Adona her so… And thus her gentle lamentation fa…
A little black thing among the sno… Crying “weep! 'weep!” in notes of… “Where are thy father and mother?… “They are both gone up to the chur… Because I was happy upon the heat…
“Love seeketh not itself to please… Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell's des… So sung a little Clod of Clay
Sweet dreams form a shade, O’er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down.