General Books

The ordered intermingling of the real and the dream,— The mill above the river, and the mist above the stream; The life of ceaseless labor, brave with song and cheery call— The radiant skies of evening, with its rainbow o'er us all. An Old Sweetheart of Mine!—Is thisher presence here with me,Or but a vain creation ofa lover's memory?A fair, illusive visionthat would vanish into airDared... more...

PREFACE. It is singular that the first great age of English lyric poetry should have been also the one great age of English dramatic poetry: but it is hardly less singular that the lyric school should have advanced as steadily as the dramatic school declined from the promise of its dawn. Born with Marlowe, it rose at once with Shakespeare to heights inaccessible before and since and for ever, to sink... more...

All round the year the changing suns and rains Beat on men’s work—to wreck and to decay— But nature builds more perfectly than they, Her changing unchanged sea resists, remains. All round the year new flowers spring up to shew How gloriously life is more strong than death; And in our hearts are seeds of love and faith, Ah, sun and showers, be kind, and let them grow.   RESURGAM. Swift pass the... more...

Oh, ye, who so lately were blythesome and gay,At the Butterfly’s Banquet, carousing away;Your feasts and your revels of pleasure are fled,For the soul of the Banquet, the Butterfly’s dead.No longer the Flies and the Emmets advance,To join with their friends in the Grasshopper’s dance;For see, his thin form o’er the favourite bend,And the Grasshopper mourns for the loss of his friend.And hark, to... more...

Helen of Troy Wild flight on flight against the fading dawnThe flames' red wings soar upward duskily.This is the funeral pyre and Troy is deadThat sparkled so the day I saw it first,And darkened slowly after. I am sheWho loves all beauty—yet I wither it.Why have the high gods made me wreak their wrath—Forever since my maidenhood to sowSorrow and blood about me? Lo, they keepTheir bitter care... more...

THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS.         Descend, ye hovering Sylphs! aerial Quires,        And sweep with little hands your silver lyres;        With fairy footsteps print your grassy rings,        Ye Gnomes! accordant to the tinkling strings;5 While in soft notes I tune to oaten reed        Gay hopes, and amorous sorrows of the mead.—        From giant Oaks,... more...

1. A SONG OF RENUNCIATION. (AFTER A. C. S.) In the days of my season of salad,  When the down was as dew on my cheek, And for French I was bred on the ballad,  For Greek on the writers of Greek,–– Then I sang of the rose that is ruddy,  Of ‘pleasure that winces and stings,’ Of white women and wine that is bloody,  And similar things. Of Delight that is dear as Desi-er,  And Desire that is... more...

I NEVER SAW THAT LAND BEFORE I NEVER saw that land before,And now can never see it again;Yet, as if by acquaintance hoarEndeared, by gladness and by pain,Great was the affection that I bore To the valley and the river small,The cattle, the grass, the bare ash trees,The chickens from the farmsteads, allElm-hidden, and the tributariesDescending at equal interval; The blackthorns down along the brookWith... more...

SPRING BLOSSOMS. Here, for the infant minds, fair spring,Blossoms of bright truth we bring,Seeds of virtue there to sow,Ere a single weed can grow. Here may you learn how sweet the bliss,To worship nature’s loveliness,Escaping through her flow’ry charm,Each thought or wish to do a harm. For when the tender buds of truth,Expand within the minds of youth,They cast a bloom around the heartThat will... more...

upon a time I visited Fairy-land and spent a day in Goblin-town. The people there are much like ourselves, only they are very, very small and roguish. They play pranks on one another and have great fun. They are good natured and jolly, and rarely get angry. But if one does get angry, he quickly recovers his good nature and joins again in the sport. If a Goblin should continue angry he would take on some... more...