Benign shooting stars, ecstatic delight Charles! my slow heart was only sad, when first Cupid, if storying Legends tell aright Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween Deep in the gulph of Vice and Woe. Depart in joy from this world's noise and strife Dim Hour! that sleep'st on pillowing clouds afar Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove Each crime that once estranges from the virtues Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother Edmund! thy grave with aching eye I scan Encinctured with a twine of leaves Ere on my bed my limbs I lay (1803) Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no Farewell, parental scenes! a sad farewell Farewell, sweet Love! yet blame you not my truth Fear no more, thou timid Flower 'Fie, Mr. Coleridge !-and can this be you? Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like For ever in the world of Fame. PA 營 46 1: 1041, 1012 Frail creatures are we all! To be the best Friend, Lover, Husband, Sister, Brother. Friend of the wise! and Teacher of the Good. Friend pure of heart and fervent! we have learnt Gently I took that which ungently came. God be with thee, gladsome Ocean God is our Strength and our Refuge God's child in Christ adopted,-Christ my all. Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better Great goddesses are they to lazy folks Hail! festal Easter that dost bring. PAGE Hear, sweet Spirit, hear the spell Heard'st thou yon universal cry Hence, soul-dissolving Harmony Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe Hence! thou fiend of gloomy sway 420, 552, 849 10 28 157 34 His native accents to her stranger's ear How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits I ask'd my fair one happy day Her attachment may differ from yours in degree His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead How warm this woodland wild Recess I from the influence of thy Looks receive 484 1045 1006, 1007 1005 966 960 39 381 353 409 92 954 I have experienced the worst the world can wreak on me I know it is dark; and though I have lain I know 'tis but a dream, yet feel more anguish I love, and he loves me again I mix in life, and labour to seem free I stand alone, nor tho' my heart should break. If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light Julia was blest with beauty, wit, and grace Kayser to whom, as to a second self Lady, to Death we're doom'd, our crime the same Let those whose low delights to Earth are given Like a lone Arab, old and blind Lo! through the dusky silence of the groves Lovely gens of radiance meek. Low was our pretty Cot! our tallest Rose Maid of my Love, sweet Genevieve. Maid of unboastful charms! whom white-robed Truth Maiden, that with sullen brow Mark this holy chapel well Matilda! I have heard a sweet tune played Mild Splendour of the various-vested Night Mourn, Israel! Sons of Israel, mourn Much on my early youth I love to dwell. My eyes make pictures, when they are shut My heart has thanked thee, Bowles! for those soft strains My Lord! though your Lordship repel deviation My Lesbia, let us love and live. My Maker! of thy power the trace My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined Not hers To win the sense by words of rhetoric O th' Oppressive, irksome weight 955 O thou wild Fancy, check thy wing! No more 51 O thron'd in Heav'n! Sole King of kings 438 O what a loud and fearful shriek was there 82 Once again, sweet Willow, wave thee Once could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze Once more! sweet Stream! with slow foot wandering near 7 817 347 1040 419 30 973 17 58 Quae linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea. Sad lot, to have no Hope! Though lowly kneeling Sing, impassionate Soul! of Mohammed the complicate story Some, Thelwall! to the Patriot's meed aspire Stanhope! I hail, with ardent Hymn, thy name Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall Strong spirit-bidding sounds Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows Such love as mourning Husbands have Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem Sweet Gift! and always doth Elisa send Sweet Mercy! how my very heart has bled Sweet Muse! companion of my every hour Tell me, on what holy ground. The body, Eternal Shadow of the finite Soul The butterfly the ancient Grecians made The indignant Bard composed this furious ode The piteous sobs that choke the Virgin's breath The reed roof'd village still bepatch'd with snow The silence of a City, how awful at Midnight The stars that wont to start, as on a chace The stream with languid murmur creeps The Sun is not yet risen. The Sun with gentle beams his rage disguises The tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dry PAGE 959 431 443 1046 973 87 160 335 89 491, 1044 248 73 399 307 953 148 964 93 16 71, 501 67 484 964 956 958 412 653 56 148 24 1045 240 976 61 27 952 155 952 345 957 958 429 59 469 96-5 20 345 |