That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.
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If I had but two little wings
To you I’d fly, my dear!But thoughts like these are idle things,And I stay here.But in my sleep to you I fly:I’m always with you in my sleep!The world is all one’s own.But then one wakes, and where am I?All, all alone.Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:So I love to wake ere break of…
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
In the winter they’re silent, the wind is so strong;What it says I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,And singing, and loving, all come back together.Then the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,The green fields below him, the blue sky above,That he sings,…
A mount, not wearisome and bare and steep,
Where o’er the jutting rocks soft mosses creepOr colored lichens with slow oozing weep;Where cypress and the darker yew start wild;And ‘mid the summer torrent’s gentle dashDance brightened the red clusters of the ash;Beneath whose boughs, by stillest sounds beguiled,Calm pensiveness might muse herself to sleep;Till haply startled by some fleecy dam,That rustling on the…
IN SEVEN PARTS
universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit ? et gradus etcognationes et discrimina et singulorum munera ? Quid agunt ? quae locahabitant ? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquamattigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam intabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari : ne mens assuefactahodiernae vitae minutiis se contrahat…
Verse, a breeze ‘mid blossoms straying,
Both were mine! Life went a-mayingWith Nature, Hope, and Poesy,When I was young!When I was young? -Ah, woeful When!Ah! for the change ‘twixt Now and Then!This breathing house not built with hands,This body that does me grievous wrong,O’er aery cliffs and glittering sandsHow lightly then it flashed along,Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,On winding…
Once more, sweet stream! with slow foot wand’ring near,
Escaped the flashing of the noontide hours,With one fresh garland of Pierian flowers(Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink I turn)My languid hand shall wreath thy mossy urn.For not thro’ pathless grove with murmur rudeThen soothest the sad wood-nymph, solitude:Nor thine unseen in cavern depths to well,The hermit-fountain of some dripping cell!Pride of the vale! thy useful…