Winds of May, that dance on the sea, Dancing a ring-around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overhead The foam flies up to be garlanded, In silvery arches spanning the air,...
Wind thy horn, my hunter boy, And leave thy lute's inglorious sighs; Hunting is the hero's joy, Till war his nobler game supplies. Hark! the hound-bells ringing sweet,...
With heavy groans did I approach my friends, Heavy as though the mountains I would move. The flagon they were murdering; they poured Into the cup, wild-eyed, the grape's red blood....
The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits, The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates, The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar,...
Winter that hath few friends yet numbers those Of spirit erect and delicate of eye; All may applaud sweet Summer, with her rose, And Autumn, with her banners in the sky;...
Hard frost and sunshine – a day of pleasure! You are still drowsy at your leisure – It’s time, my beauty, ope your eyes! Let you get free of blissful dreaming, To meet the North Aurora, deeming...
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I: Perhaps some day, who knows? But not to-day; it froze, and blows, and snows, And you're too curious: fie! You want to hear it? well:...
Rude winter's come, the sky's o'ercast, The night is cold and loud the blast, The mingling snow comes driving down, Fast whitening o'er the flinty ground. Severe their lots whose crazy sheds...
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the sky, "How silently, and with how wan a face!" Where art thou? Thou so often seen on high Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race!...
First, there's the entrance, narrow, and so small, The hat-stand seems to fill the tiny hall; That staircase, too, has such an awkward bend, The carpet rucks, and rises up on end!...
With moonlight beaming Thus o'er the deep, Who'd linger dreaming In idle sleep? Leave joyless souls to live by day,-- Our life begins with yonder ray; And while thus brightly The moments flee,...
The congregation was devout, The minister inspired, Their attitude to those without By every one admired, And all things so harmonious seemed, Of no calamity we dreamed. ...
Sylvan, they say, and nymph are gone; And yet I saw the two last night, When overhead the moon sailed white, And through the mists, her light made wan, Each bush and tree doffed its disguise,...