Soon, O Ianthe! life is o'er,

Soon to waken, may my Rose
Sophia, pity Gunlaug's fate
Sophy! before the fond adieu
So sad a mourner never bent
So then, I feel not deeply! if I did,
Sounder, sweeter, be your sleep.
Spirit who risest to eternal day, .

Squibs, crackers, serpents, rockets, Bengal lights,

Stately step, commanding eye,

Stop, stop, friend Cogan! would you throw

Stranger, these little flowers are sweet

Strike with Thor's hammer, strike again

Struggling, and faint, and fainter didst thou wane,

Such rapid jerks, such rude grimaces,

Summer has doft his latest green,
Sure from thee, Most Holy Father,

Sweet are the siren songs on eastern shores,
Sweet Clementina, turn those eyes

Sweet is the Morn where'er it shines,.

Sweet odours and bright colours swiftly pass,
Sweet was the song that youth sang once,
Swiftly we sail along thy stream,

T.

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The ancient Faith brings recreant Gauls
The basket upon which thy fingers bend,
The Bible is the Earth; and we begin

The blackest of grapes, with a footpath hard by,
The bough beneath me shakes and swings.
The brightest mind, when sorrow sweeps across,
The burden of an ancient rhyme

The day of brightest dawn (day soonest flown!)
The day returns again

The day returns, my natal day,

The days of our youth are not over while sadness

The dead are soon forgotten, and not all
The Devil, when he made believe

The dreamy rhymer's measured snore
The fault is not mine if I love you too much,
The fires of love are pure in just degree,
The Goddess of beauty, who loves early hours,
The Graces now are past their dancing days,
The grandest writer of late ages

The grateful heart for all things blesses;
The hay is carried; and the Hours
The heart you cherish can not change;
The house of mourning in a foreign land
The leaves are falling; so am I;
The Loves who many years held all my mind,
The maid I love ne'er thought of me

There are few on whom Fortune in one form or other,
There are some tears that only brave men shed,
There are some tears we would not wish to dry,
There are some wishes that may start
There are some words in every tongue
There are sweet flowers that only blow by night,
There are two rival foes for every breast,

There are whose hand can hurl the shafts of song
There are who teach us that the depths of thought
The Rector of St. Peter's, I know where,
There falls with every wedding chime
There is a flame that flickers over us,
There is a flower I wish to wear,

There is, alas! a chill, a gloom,

There is a mountain and a wood between us,
There is a time when the romance of life
There is delight in singing, tho' none hear

There lived a diver once whose boast

There may be many reasons why,

There may be scornfulness, there may be wrong
There was a lovely tree, I knew.

There was a spinner in the days of old,

There was one powerful man, and only one
The scentless laurel a broad leaf displays,
The sea has depths no plummet-line
These are the sights I love to see:

The shadows deepen round me; take.

The shell assuaged his sorrow: thee he sang,

The slender birds enjoy their cages,

The snows have fallen since my eyes were closed
The soft I own to; then of fun .

The sorrowing heart will seek no pleasant place
The tears that on two faces meet

The tongue of England, that which myriads
The touch of Love dispels the gloom.

The vessel that rests here at last

The wine is murmuring in the gloom,
The wisest of the wise

The wisest of us all, when woe

They tell us, the persuasive Greek,

This is my hour.

Thomson, there born where mist and snow

Those who have laid the harp aside

Thou Cylamen of crumpled horn

Thou dreariest droll of puffy short-breath'd writers!

Though other friends have died in other days,

Thought fights with thought: out springs a spark of truth
Thou hast been very tender to the moon,

Thou hast not lost all glory, Rome!

Thou hast not rais'd, Ianthe, such desire

Thou in this wide cold church art laid,

Thou murderous man! a time there comes, we trust,

Thou needst not pitch upon my hat, .

Thon pityest; and why hidest thou thy pity?

Thou whom the wandering comets guide,

Threaten the wretch who rashly comes

Threescore and ten years since Rugby saw

Thy daughters often visit me

Time past I thought it worth my while

'Tis not Lucilla that you see

"Tis pleasant to behold

To gaze on you when life's last gleams decline,

To hide her ordure, claws the cat ;

To his young Rose an old man said,

To love and to be loved the wise would give

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To the tender and pensive I make my Appeal.

To turn my volumes o'er nor find
To violate the sanctitude of song,
Toward Maiano let me look again

To write as your sweet mother does

Traveller! thou from afar that explorest the caverns of Delphi,
Treasures of Greek has
? In vain I seek 'em,

Triumphant Demons stand, and Angels start,
True, ah too true! the generous breast
Tryphona says that you must come

Twenty years hence my eyes may grow

Two cackling mothers hatch two separate broods
Two Goddesses, not always friends,

Ulysses-like had Myrrha known,
Under his pulpit lies poor Sydney,
Under the grate the ashes lie

Under the hollies of thy breezy glade,
Under the lilacs we shall meet no more,
Under the lindens lately sat

Unhappy he whom Love beguiles

U.

Unjust are they who argue me unjust
Unkindness can be but where kindness was;
Unless my senses are more dull.

Unworthy are these poems of the lights
Upon his death-bed lay a pagan priest;

V.

Valour not always is propel'd by War;
Various the roads of life; in one
Venour, my brave boy-guardian, who at school
"Venus, I fear thy dove

Weak minds return men hatred for contempt,
Wearers of rings and chains!

We drive the hoop along the green of life

We have outlived low Creeds; the high remains.
We have survived three months of rain,
We hear no more an attic song, .

We know a poet rich in thought, profuse
Welcome, old friend! These many years

Welcome! who last hast climb'd the cloven hill
Well I remember how you smiled

We may repair and fix again

We once were happier; true; but were

Wert thou but blind, O Fortune, then perhaps

We will not argue, if you say

What bitter flowers surround the fount of Pleasure,
What brought thee back, lad?

Whatever England's fields display,

What garden but glows

"What is my faith?" I do believe

What, of house and home bereft,

What right have I to hold back Love so late,
What see I through the mist of years? a friend,
What slender youth perfused with fresh macassar
What thousands, Law, thy handywork deplore!
What wouldst thou say,

.

When a man truly loves he is at best

When closes overhead the warmer ray,

When eating and drinking and spitting and smoking
When from above the busy crowd I see,

When Helen first saw wrinkles in her face

When Honour once hath shut the door

When I gaze upon the sky..

When our eyes melt not with another's woes

When sea-born Venus guided o'er

When she whose glory casts in shade

When the buds began to burst

When the mad wolf hath bit the scatter'd sheep,
When the mimosas shall have made

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