« PreviousContinue »
Prologue to the Heir at Law.
On their own merits modest men are dumb.
Speed the Plough. Act i. Sc. 1.
What will Mrs. Grundy say?
A Cure for the Heartache. Act ii. Sc. 1.
POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
The Needy Knife-Grinder.
Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir!
I give thee sixpence! I will see thee d- -d first.
The Loves of the Triangles.
So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides
The Derby dilly carrying three insides.
Lines written for a School Declamation.
You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage;
Don't view me with a critic's eye,
But pass my imperfections by.
Hail, Columbia! happy land!
Guilt and Sorrow.
And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,
And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
My Heart Leaps Up.
The Child is father of the Man.*
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door.
We are Seven.
A simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
What should it know of death?
The Pet Lamb.
Drink, pretty creature, drink.
Until a man might travel twelve stout miles,
To a Butterfly.
Sweet childish days, that were as long
*The childhood shows the man
As morning shows the day.
Paradise Regained. Book 4,
Stanzas written in Thomson.
A noticeable man, with large gray eyes.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
A maid whom there were none to praise,
A violet by a mossy stone
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
The difference to me!
Poems founded on the Affections.
Minds that have nothing to confer
Find little to perceive.
The Idiot Boy.
The bane of all that dread the devil.
Something between a hinderance and a help.
A Morning Exercise.
But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
The Oak and the Broom.
And he is oft the wisest man,
Who is not wise at all.
The Solitary Reaper.
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
The music in my heart I bore,
Rob Roy's Grave. St. 9.
Because the good old rule
Sufficeth them, the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
The swan on still St. Mary's Lake
Sonnets to National Independence and Liberty.
Part i. vi.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is passed away.