From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass
Like little ripples in a sunny river.
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THERE falls with every wedding chime
You pick it up, and say “How fairTo look upon its colors are!”Another drops day after dayUnheeded; not one word you say.When bright and dusky are blown past,Upon the hearse there nods the last.
Tell me not what too well I know
Yes, in Thalia’s sonSuch stains there are—as when a GraceSprinkles another’s laughing faceWith nectar, and runs on.
Child of a day, thou knowest not
The gushing eyes that read thy lot,Nor, if thou knewest, couldst return!And why the wish! the pure and blestWatch like thy mother o’er thy sleep.O peaceful night! O envied rest!Thou wilt not ever see her weep.
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!But oh, who ever felt as I?No longer could I doubt him true;All other men may use deceit:He always said my eyes were blue,And often swore my lips were sweet.
AFTER THE SACKAGE OF MILETOS
The flames were panting after us, their darts Had pierced to many heartsBefore the Gods, who heard nor prayer nor vow;Temples had sunk to earth, and other smokeO’er riven altars brokeThan curled from myrrh and nard,When like a God amongArm’d hosts and unarm’d throngThee I discern’d, implored, and caught one brief regard.Thou passest: from thy…
Here, ever since you went abroad,
I only walk our wonted road,The road is only walkt by me.Yes; I forgot; a change there is;Was it of that you bade me tell?I catch at times, at times I missThe sight, the tone, I know so well.Only two months since you stood here!Two shortest months! then tell me whyVoices are harsher than they…