Oh, heavy day! oh, day of woe! To misery a poster, Why was I ever farrowed, why Not spitted for a roaster? In this world, pigs, as well as me…

I heard a gentle maiden, in the sp… Set her sweet sighs to music, and… ‘Fly through the world, and I wil… Only for looks that may turn back… ’Only for roses that your chance m…

Giver of glowing light! Though but a god of other days, The kings and sages Of wiser ages Still live and gladden in thy geni…

She was a woman peerless in her st… With household virtues wedded to h… Spotless in linen, grass-bleached… And pure and clear-starched in her… Thence in my Castle of Imaginatio…

Oh, when I was a tiny boy, My days and nights were full of jo… My mates were blithe and kind!— No wonder that I sometimes sigh, And dash the tear-drop from my eye…

“Who hath not felt that breath in… A perfume and freshness strange an… A warmth in the light, and a bliss… When young hearts yearn together? All sweets below, and all sunny ab…

Good morrow to the golden morning, Good morrow to the world’s delight… I’ve come to bless thy life’s begi… Since it makes my own so bright! I have brought no roses, sweetest,

’Twas in the prime of summer-time An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran and some…

A spade! a rake! a hoe! A pickaxe, or a bill! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow… A flail, or what ye will— And here’s a ready hand

The swallow with summer Will wing o’er the seas, The wind that I sigh to Will visit thy trees. The ship that it hastens

(The Argument: Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an inc...

No popular respect will I omit To do thee honor on this happy day… When every loyal lover tasks his w… His simple truth in studious rhyme… And to his mistress dear his hopes…

Lov’st thou not, Alice, with the… To see the hardy Fisher hoist his… And stretch his sail towards the o… Like God’s own beadsman going for… His net into the deep, which doth…

Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don’t go far; The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar. Some fret themselves to death

The curse of Adam, the old curse… Though I inherit in this feverish… Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and… And fruitless thought, in Care’s… Yet more sweet honey than of bitte…