And silent chambers of the household mark
The movements of the myriad orbs of light!
Through my closed eyelids, by the inner sight,
I see the constellations in the arc
Of their great circles moving on, and hark!
I almost hear them singing in their flight.
Better than sleep it is to lie awake,
O’er-canopied by the vast starry dome
Of the immeasurable sky; to feel
The slumbering world sink under us, and make
Hardly an eddy,–a mere rush of foam
On the great sea beneath a sinking keel.
Was sifted;And now, though ages intervene,Sin is the same, while time and sceneAre shifted.Satan desires us, great and small,As wheat to sift us, and we allAre tempted;Not one, however rich or great,Is by his station or estateExempted.No house so safely guarded isBut he, by some device of his,Can enter;No heart hath armor so completeBut he…
So gay with his Highland blue bonnet,So brave with his targe and claymore?His form is the form of a giant,But his face wears an aspect of pain;Can this be the Laird of Inchkenneth?Can this be Sir Allan McLean?Ah, no! It is only the Rambler,The Idler, who lives in Bolt Court,And who says, were he Laird…
As by the loveliest of all lakesI while the idle hours away.I pace the leafy colonnade,Where level branches of the planeAbove me weave a roof of shadeImpervious to the sun and rain.At times a sudden rush of airFlutters the lazy leaves o’erhead,And gleams of sunshine toss and flareLike torches down the path I tread.By Somariva’s…
Ever thicker, thicker, thickerFroze the ice on lake and river,Ever deeper, deeper, deeperFell the snow o’er all the landscape,Fell the covering snow, and driftedThrough the forest, round the village.Hardly from his buried wigwamCould the hunter force a passage;With his mittens and his snow-shoesVainly walked he through the forest,Sought for bird or beast and found none,Saw…
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal handOutstretched with benedictions o’er the land,Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspendedSo long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves;Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended;Like…
The soul of April, unto whom are bornThe rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee!Although, where’er thy devious current strays,The lap of earth with gold and silver teems,To me thy clear proceeding brighter seemsThan golden sands, that charm each shepherd’s gaze.How without guile thy bosom, all transparentAs the pure crystal, lets the curious eyeThy secrets…
