The straw-stuffed hamper with its… He open’d, cutting sheer th’ inser… Which bound the lid and lip secure… The rustling package first, bright… Or oats, or barley; next a bottle…

Ah, how the Human Mind wearies he… With her own wand’rings, and, invo… Impenetrable, speculates amiss! Measuring, in her folly, things di… By human, laws inscrib’d on adaman…

Believe it or not, as you choose, The doctrine is certainly true, That the future is known to the M… And poets are oracles too. I did but express a desire,

Oh happy shades—to me unblest! Friendly to peace, but not to me! How ill the scene that offers rest… And heart that cannot rest, agree! This glassy stream, that spreading…

(Matthew, XIII.3) Ye sons of earth prepare the ploug… Break up your fallow ground; The sower is gone forth to sow, And scatter blessings round.

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the se… And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines

Thou hast no lightnings, O thou J… Or I their force should know; And, if thou strike me into dust, My soul approves the blow. The heart, that values less its ea…

I sing of a journey to Clifton, We would have perform’d if we coul… Without cart or barrow to lift on Poor Mary and me through the mud; Slee, sla, slud,

God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea… And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines

Hermocratia named—save only one— Twice fifteen births I bore, and… For neither Phoebus pierced my th… Nor Dian—she my girls, or he my b… But Dian rather, when my daughter…

Long plunged in sorrow, I resign My soul to that dear hand of thine… Without reserve or fear; That hand shall wipe my streaming… Or into smiles of glad surprise

The lover, in melodious verses, His singular distress rehearses; Still closing with a rueful cry, ‘Was ever such a wretch as I!’ Yes! thousands have endured before

My name—my country—what are they t… What, whether base or proud my ped… Perhaps I far surpass’d all other… Perhaps I fell below them all—wha… Suffice it, stranger! that thou se…

A raven, while with glossy breast Her new-laid eggs she fondly press… And, on her wicker-work high mount… Her chickens prematurely counted (A fault philosophers might blame,

Two Poets, (poets, by report, Not oft so well agree,) Sweet harmonist of Flora’s court! Conspire to honour thee. They best can judge a poet’s worth…