John Wilson Poems on Soul (17 Poems)

The Children’s Dance (John Wilson Poems)

How calm and beautiful the frosty nightHas stolen unnoticed like the hush of sleepO’er Grassmere-vale! Beneath the mellowing lightHow sinks in softness every rugged steep!The old church-tower a solemn watch doth keepO’er the sweet village she adorns so well;Faintly the … Continue reading →

The Magic Mirror (John Wilson Poems)

Methought beneath a Castle huge I stood,That seemed to grow out of a rock sublime,Through the dominion of its solitudeAugustly frowning at the rage of Time.Its lofty minarets, indistinct and dim,Looked through the brooding clouds; and as a smileOf passing … Continue reading →

Address To A Wild Deer In The Forest Of Dalness, Argyllshire (John Wilson Poems)

Magnificent Creature! so stately and bright!In the pride of thy spirit pursuing thy flight;For what hath the child of the desert to dread,Wafting up his own mountains that far-beaming head;Or borne like a whirlwind down on the vale?-Hail! King of … Continue reading →

The Hermitage (John Wilson Poems)

Stranger! this lonely glen in ancient timesWas named the glen of blood; nor Christian feetBy night or day, from these o’erarching cliffsThat haply now have to thy joyful shoutsReturned a mellow music, ever broughtOne trembling sound to break the depth … Continue reading →

Troutbeck Chapel (John Wilson Poems)

How sweet and solemn at the close of day,After a long and lonely pilgrimageAmong the mountains, where our spirits heldWith wildering fancy and her kindred powersHigh converse, to descend as from the cloudsInto a quiet valley, filled with treesBy Nature … Continue reading →

On Reading Mr. Clarkson’s History Of The Abolition Of The Slave Trade (John Wilson Poems)

‘MID the august and never-dying lightOf constellated spirits, who have gain’dA throne in heaven, by power of heavenly acts,And leave their names immortal and unchangedOn earth, even as the names of Sun and Moon,See’st thou, my soul ! ‘mid all … Continue reading →

Elegy On The Death Of An Infant (John Wilson Poems)

Ere Margaret was three months old,Her father laid her in the mould!Poor Babe! her fleeting visit hereWas marked by many a sigh and tear,And sudden starts of unknown painOft seemed to shake her little brain!Scarcely unto her ear was knownA … Continue reading →

Lines Written on Oak Island, Killarney (John Wilson Poems)

Far in the heart of Island-solitudeOur tent was pitched, beneath a grove of oaks.A scene more solemn never hermit choseFor penitence and prayer; nor pensive bardWept over, dreaming of his dying hourAnd the happy stillness of a sylvan grave.That ancient … Continue reading →

A Churchyard Dream (John Wilson Poems)

Methought that in a Burial-groundOne still, sad vernal day,Upon a little daisied moundI in a slumber lay;While faintly through my dream I heardThe hymning of that holy bird,Who with more gushing rapture singsThe higher up in Heaven float his unwearied … Continue reading →

A Recommendation Of The Study Of Ancient Greek And Roman Architecture, Sculpture, And Painting (John Wilson Poems)

Though oft in Britain’s Isle the breathing bustTo fame consign the patriot-hero’s dust,And conquerors waked to mimic life againIn imaged triumph thunder o’er the main;Though speaks each mould by Flaxman’s genius wrought,The glow of fancy, or the stretch of thought;And … Continue reading →